Visionary
by Drink Sparky Cola
Summary: After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim’s death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel’s involvement in the crime. Part 8 Posted.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Not yet finished (Parts 1-9 of 9 are finished. Epilogue needs to be written still…)

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Prologue**

Robert Torpe trudged up the stairs to his sizable New York loft slowly, in no particular rush to get home. It had been a long and trying day, and anyway, there would be no one at home waiting for him. _Not even a dog_, Torpe thought bitterly, wondering exactly how his life had come to be such a lonely existence. He used to be someone once…

When he reached the second floor, the businessman's mood was lightened significantly at the arrival of a package he'd been expecting, which his landlord had left for him by the door to his apartment on the complex's third floor. He didn't need to inspect the package; he already knew what it was, and his eyes lit up with the realization.

Raleigh's Box.

Perhaps there wasn't some_one_ waiting for Torpe, but there was some_thing_ worth coming home for. Robert rushed over and scooped up the box, fumbling with his door key to get the apartment open.

Torpe slammed the door shut behind him and sat down in his expensive, trendy leather couch. Everything in Torpe's apartment matched. He was a man who prided himself on his materialistic decorations – an obsession which cost him any manner of romantic or friendly social life.

If anyone ever saw the inside of Robert Torpe's apartment, they would have seen a wide range of ancient artifacts dealing with the mystical and the occult. They adorned the shelves of his living room, the table in his kitchen, and even the walls of his bedroom. The artifacts, an impressive collection Torpe had been diligently collecting for over half of his 46 years, were the primary reason he lived by himself in the loft, and the were most likely the result of not having a family to support. Robert Torpe was a collector, _not_ a dealer.

That's where Raleigh's Box came in. Torpe had paid upwards from $20,000 for the relic, and he cursed the landlord for leaving such a priceless item standing in the open for anyone to walk up and steal, but in his excitement to examine the artifact, he let his anger slide. Besides, no one ever came by Torpe's apartment anyway. It was unlikely anyone would happen by, and even if they did, anyone who opened the package would likely be too ignorant to realize the Box was _worth_ more than they made in a year.

Torpe pried the cardboard package open with a letter opener he kept laying on his trendy coffee table with the stylish lamp upon it. Removing the outside package as carefully as he could, Torpe pulled out the packaging and lifted the Box before his eyes. The businessman gazed at the artifact with silent awe as he examined its sharp, intricate designs etched into the surface. The Box was only about three inches square. The lid, which attached to the base with thin iron hinges, was adorned in its center with a fiery, red eye, which seemed to watch Torpe warily as the man ran his fingers over the Box, almost not believing its genuineness.

"It's _mine_." Robert Torpe's chuckle was one of amazement and awe, with only a hint of greed snuck in. The red eye observed him as Torpe's fingers found the latch, a small miniscule button, and hovered over it for the briefest of moments, as if hesitating, then Torpe pressed the button.

At once, Torpe's world exploded into a terrible blast of blinding white light. The explosion was followed immediately by a series of images, a blitzkrieg of awful, painful visions.

In his trendy New York loft, Robert Torpe gasped, almost choking on the intensity of the sudden terror. For the next few moments he was lost in his mind, assaulted by the terrible images which flashed through it, each lasting only a fraction of a second, but each leaving a distinct impression in his soul.

So much pain… visions of death, blood, pain, anguish, all in Torpe's memory… a woman being raped… a child screaming as he watched his parents die horribly… a gun being fired… a building exploding… screams, hateful eyes… and death – so much death… Would it ever end?

Even though Torpe felt miles away from reality, he knew, in his subconscious, that every one of these premonitions was real. Whether it had already happened, was happening at that moment, or was going to happen in the near future, Torpe knew it was all reality.

And like that, the vision ended.

Abruptly and without warning, the premonitions disappeared. Robert Torpe found himself still sitting on his trendy couch in his lonely New York loft, holding – no, _gripping_ – Raliegh's Box in his clenched hands. He released his grip on the Box, careful not to let it fall to the ground, and set it down, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that he was sweating profusely. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his suit jacket and looked around the loft, as if trying to confirm that he was in his own home, and not out _there_, in the harsh streets where all the events he'd witnessed had no doubt taken place. Confirming his location, and trying to keep his sanity in check, Torpe swallowed once and stood up, taking one last glance at the Box before he left the room to lie down in his bedroom.

The red eye was still staring.

A shudder went through his system and impulsively, Torpe hastily placed the Box back into the package it had arrived in, covering it with packing paper so that none of it could be seen. He put the Box away in the cabinet under his television set and cleared off the table of all evidence that had remained of the artifact, but even as he was walking away down the hall toward his bedroom, he still could not shake the violent, inexplicable images he'd just experienced, and he still could not shake the feeling that somehow he was being watched…

Torpe stopped into his bathroom on the way, opening his medicine cabinet without glancing at the mirror. He reached for his depression medication and removed the lid. He was supposed to take two pills a day, one in the morning when he got up, and one when he got home from work. He had already taken the morning pill, but nonetheless he poured two out onto his palm and swallowed them with a glass of water, thinking that at the very least it couldn't _hurt_.

Slamming the cabinet door shut, Torpe was confronted with his own visage, shocked at how much more haggard he already appeared. Staring blankly at his reflection, Robert Torpe blinked and wiped both hands over his face, but the harsh edginess of his features did not lessen in the least.

Four days later, Robert Torpe was dead.

_TBC…_


	2. 1 Interference

Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I meant to post a new chapter every week, but well, the end of the year and subsequent finals are nearing. I start them next Monday, so I've got a lot of work ahead of me. The wait depends on finding the time to edit chapters. I hope to get the next chapter out by next Monday.

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Not yet finished (Parts 1-9 of 9 are finished. Epilogue needs to be written still…)

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter One – Interference**

"The vic's name is Robert Torpe. 46 years old, no history of illness or disease; he lived alone in an apartment building, right up there." Jake McCarty pointed upwards to the windows of a loft about three floors up. Sara Pezzini and Danny Woo glanced up toward the window, which was closed, but visible through the window were several police officers, milling about the apartment, searching for clues as to their victim's death.

Danny knelt beside the mangled body that used to belong to Robert Torpe and squinted, as if searching for the man that used to belong to the body, then asked Jake, "The cause of death was definitely the fall then?" He and Sara had just arrived on the scene about five minutes earlier to find McCarty already there and waiting for them. Jake had been the one to make the call to them both that brought them in to their shift a little earlier than either would have liked. While Danny had been eating breakfast with his wife, Sara had been at her apartment, reading over some of the older information Gabriel had given her about the Witchblade. He'd been mentioning something lately about the prophecy that named Sara the wielder, having studied it in more detail whenever he had the free time. Sara was curious to know anything new connected to her destiny, but as of the previous evening, there was nothing new to report.

"According to the witnesses." Jake provided.

"Which ones are they?" Sara asked, scanning the crowd of bystanders.

"Take your pick," Jake said, waving his arm to take in the crowd to his left. "Torpe had been up on the top of the building for about ten minutes before he jumped. We've got a crowd of bystanders and four beat cops that arrived on the scene shortly before he jumped to his death telling us what happened."

Sara tilted her head as she glanced at the body, grimacing at the odd angle of the middle-aged man's snapped neck, obviously the cause of his immediate death, as reported by the coroner, who arrived on the scene before Jake. No one had touched the body, according to the rookie, except for the paramedics who'd arrived shortly after the fall. "One thing I don't understand is," Sara began, putting on her sunglasses to shield her eyes from the sun, "why are we here?" She looked skeptically at Jake. "All signs point to jumper. We're _homicide_ cops, Rookie."

"She's right," Danny said, looking at Jake. "This isn't our forte. We don't usually investigate suicides, especially ones with so many witnesses."

"Well, here's the thing…" Jake began disconcertingly, "All the witnesses are saying the same thing. It looks like Torpe was _talking _to someone before he jumped. For the entire duration he'd been reportedly—" Jake looked at his notepad, "'mumbling to himself and looking over his shoulder frequently' and apparently looked as if he _didn't want_ to jump."

"Is that so?" Sara asked, disinterested. She massaged her temple as she surveyed the scene. "So someone _coerced _him to jump, supposedly."

"Possibly forced." Jake added.

"So where is this mystery Kevorkian then?" Danny asked.

"That's the question of the day. Super was on his way up the stairs after he called the police, trying to see if he could persuade Mr. Torpe to come back down, but he got there too late. _He_ says there was no one on the roof, and only one exit." Jake replied.

"So, this notorious suicide-assister just disappeared—_some_how—after talking Robert Torpe into jumping six stories to his death?" Sara asked.

Jake shrugged. "That's the story, Pez."

"This is ridiculous." Sara shook her head. "I can't believe I was called in for this."

"I don't know, Pez." Jake continued, grabbing her arm as she turned to leave. "I think we should still look into it. After all the strange murders I've seen since I was transferred here, I'm willing to believe anything's possible now… and I think you should too."

"I know you're eager to find your big case that'll break the bank for you, Rookie, but here's my advice: Don't get pulled in too easily. Sometimes a cigar really is a cigar." Jake's face fell slightly but, not one to be easily discouraged, he brightened again almost instantaneously.

"Well, I'll still talk to some of the witnesses some more, if that's OK with you."

Sara regarded the blonde cop a moment, then said, "Tell you what: Danny and I will go upstairs, take a look around the apartment, and if we find anything then I'll look at the case more seriously."

Jake shrugged. "It's your choice… but thanks." He grinned and turned around, striding over to where the beat cops who'd responded to the scene were standing by.

Sara watched him go then turned to her partner. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah." Danny followed her toward the apartment entrance. "You still think it's a suicide, don't you?" He grinned.

"I like to humor the rookies." Sara explained without turning. "It makes them eager to prove me wrong, and if they're eager, they'll work harder to solve the case. McCarty may be a doofus, but he's definitely got the ambition to be a detective."

O-O-O-O

There were a number of cops milling around the apartment, looking for clues when Sara and Danny got there, but most of them had cleared out after a few minutes. Sara looked around the living room, astonished at the number of artifacts adorning every corner of the room.

"Your friend Gabriel would have a field day here, wouldn't he?" Danny commented as he picked up some clay dish on a shelf and examined it. "He's into this kind of mythical, ancient stuff, right?"

"Well, considering he sells it for a living, yeah, I'd say he's interested in it."

"If Torpe doesn't have a will, this stuff's gonna go up for auction pretty cheap. You should tell him about it later."

"I'll certainly keep that in mind." Sara said. "I'm gonna go check out the bedroom." She walked by herself down the narrow hall where she'd seen what appeared to be Torpe's bedroom at the end. For all her talk of improving Jake's detective skills, she still wasn't willing to admit aloud that she'd been getting a weird feeling the longer she stayed at the crime scene. And ever since her acquisition of the Witchblade, Sara had been more and more apt to trust her 'weird feelings' … They usually turned out to be justified as of late. Besides, she was already at the scene. It couldn't hurt to check out the apartment of the man who had so brutally taken his own life only an hour before.

Sara ducked into the bathroom on her right to check it out before entering the bedroom. She looked at her appearance in the bathroom mirror briefly before opening up the medicine cabinet. She raised an eyebrow at the number of small yellow bottles crowding the shelves, and took an ordinary one down, glanced at the label.

"Depression medication." She said to herself, with little surprise in her voice. She examined some of the other labels to find the same medication present. In the garbage can near her foot she found several empty bottles, all with the same label. Judging by the lateness of the refill date, Torpe had been jumping ahead on his prescription. _Big surprise there_… she thought, returning the bottle to its place. She left the bathroom, now with the strong feeling that she'd been 100 right about the suicide diagnosis, but she walked into the bedroom nonetheless.

There was nothing particularly unique about the room. It contained a single, queen-sized bed, ordinary, plain sheets, almost-morbidly monotone furniture. If it weren't for the random artifacts placed about the room—vases and small statuettes—Sara wouldn't have been able to distinguish Torpe's apartment from a Linens and Things.

It was then that something caught her eye.

It was so ensconced that she was surprised that she'd noticed it, but she attributed it to the relative cleanliness of the rest of the room that the artifact below Torpe's bed had crept into her line of vision. Kneeling down on the floor, Sara reached out and took the item, which was wrapped in an old rag, and brought it up to her face. She cringed at the ugliness of the box, which was about three inches square. It had a hideous looking red eye etched into the surface and all around it were crude, indistinguishable images.

All of the sudden she was rocked with a vision. It lasted only a few seconds, but she clearly saw a vision of Robert Torpe jumping to his death, followed by a series of images of the same victim, alive this time, looking wracked with worry and pain, running an errant hand through his thinning hair, wrapping the box in a cloth and shoving it under the bed violently before backing away—

And then the vision ended, and Sara was left, holding the box. She looked at the item again, this time with renewed interest. This was what she'd been anticipating, however little she cared to admit it. This was the reason she came into the apartment in the first place.

The Witchblade was warning her.

The bracelet burned on her wrist, and Sara set the box down on the edge of the bed, sighing tiredly. It seemed like she never got a day off anymore, without this damned piece of jewelry telling her what to do. In any case, she couldn't deny the Witchblade now that it had warned her—that much she had learned by now. Robert Torpe died from unnatural causes, and it had something to do with this box. Picking herself up from the floor, Sara left the artifact for the cops to retrieve with the other evidence, and returned to the living room, realizing for the first time that she was starting to become intrigued by the case…

She passed her partner, looking around the kitchen for clues, and called out, "On second thought Danny, I think we should take this case. There… may be some more to Torpe's death than I thought. I'll meet you back at the station." Leaving a perplexed Danny behind, Sara left Torpe's apartment and descended the steps to the street outside.

O-O-O-O

Afternoon found Sara Pezzini sitting at her desk, mulling over the list of artifacts in Torpe's collection. And there were certainly a _lot_ of them.

"Hey, Pez—how's the search going? Find anything telling?" Jake asked perching on the edge of her desk.

Sara looked up from the printed papers resignedly. "No, not a damn thing I'd understand."

"Lemme see—" Jake extended a hand and Sara passed him the papers. "Whoa…" Jake exclaimed, whistling. "All this was his?"

"Yeah, I called my friend Gabriel. He's coming in to help me determine what most of this stuff is, but I'm only interested in his more recent purchases."

"That's a good idea. Gabriel could probably tell you where Torpe got his artifacts. He's got to know connections like that." Jake handed the packet back and looked around. "Hey Pez, if you don't mind my asking, what got you to change your mind? About the case, I mean."

Sara looked at him plaintively. "Gut instinct."

Jake grinned slyly. "Who am I to doubt a woman's intuition? Well," Jake glanced at his watch. "I had Jimmy look up Torpe's phone bill to see who he'd been in contact with lately. I figure maybe some disgruntled seller wanted back whatever he sold to Torpe but Torpe wouldn't sell; he gets the guy to kill himself, so it looks like a suicide, then he can steal back the artifact without any problem. Anyway, Jimmy said he should have the results about now. I'll be right back."

"Take your time." Sara called out, contemplating her rookie partner's assumption. It was possible that his theory had some truth in it. If so, then all they had to do was find out Torpe's last purchase, and trace the seller and they'd have their suspect.

… But then what did all of that have to do with the box she found under the bed?

Sara pulled out the photograph of the box, which was now stowed away in an evidence locker. She examined it, but she didn't get any of the feelings or the accompanying visions that she'd had before. Sighing, she sat back in her chair and massaged her temples with both hands. She was interrupted by a new voice.

"Hey, _you_ look like you could use one of these."

Sara peeked between her fingers. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Gabriel Bowman walked up to her desk, brandishing a tray of coffee, one of which he handed off to Sara before setting another on Danny's desk.

"Thanks, man." Danny raised the coffee in a gracious gesture and carefully took a sip. Gabriel grinned and removed his own coffee, setting the final one down on the edge of Sara's desk.

"It is. Exhaustion has a habit of sharpening your most _ravishing_ features, Pez."

Sara raised an eyebrow, preening. "Goodness, I'll have to get less sleep more often, then."

"He's right, you know. You seem to be more and more tired lately. There something going on I should know about, partner?" Danny's tone was light, but with the addition of the last word, Sara could tell he was laying the guilt trip on her. Before she'd discovered the Witchblade, she'd been able to open up to Danny about everything. There was never any hint of a communication gap between them…

But ever since she found the gauntlet she'd found herself hiding the most private matters of her life from him. It wasn't healthy, she knew. You didn't hide things from your partner – you just _didn't_. Yet how could she tell Danny about what was _really_ bothering her? She didn't even know too much herself. She'd found herself spending more and more time with Gabriel simply because he was the only one she _could_ talk to without feeling like she was revealing a very secret part of her. Gabriel knew everything about her situation—sometimes _more_ than she knew—but she still found herself missing the relationship she once had with Danny, and she was sure her partner was starting to feel the same way.

"I guess I got to start getting to bed earlier, huh?" Sara shrugged off Danny's concern and changed the subject. "So, Danny, you able to contact any of our vic's family yet?"

"Yeah, I got a hold of an older sister, Judith Cope, living in Toledo. Says she hasn't spoken to her brother in almost 10 years. He doesn't really keep in contact with the rest of the family. She didn't even know he'd moved to New York."

Jake reentered at that moment, brandishing several sheets of paper. Without looking up or noticing Gabriel, he called out, "Hey, Pez, I got Torpe's cell phone bill, and you won't believe who he's been calling lately—14 calls to—" It was at that moment Jake noticed Gabriel standing there, holding his coffee and watching Jake with the same expectancy as Sara and Danny. "Oh, hey Gabriel," Jake faltered, looking around to avoid speaking.

"14 calls to—?" Danny prompted.

"Um, can I talk to you about this somewhere else, Pez?" Jake asked. "I didn't see Gabe there…"

"It's alright—I called him in to help on this case. He has full access to anything we find out—"

"Still, I'd rather we went in another room…"

"Hey, did you say 'Torpe'?" Gabriel asked, at which Jake's eyes brightened considerably. "As in Robert Torpe?"

"Yeah, I did, why? You've heard of him?"

"Yeah, I know the guy, actually. Why, is he—" Gabriel straightened up visibly. "Oh. So he's… uh, he's dead?"

"Yeah, wait—you knew Robert Torpe, Gabriel?" Sara looked at her friend quizzically.

"Well, no not _per_sonally, but I've met the guy. He bought a few things from me in the past, but he's been calling me nonstop the last four days, pestering me about taking some artifact off his hands. It got to a point where I was ready to change my cell phone number, or get a restraining order or something."

"Why was he calling you?" Jake asked him, crossing his arms.

Gabriel, affronted at the rookie's accusatory stance, looked around nervously. "Like I said, he wanted to sell me some artifact – Raleigh's Box, or something like it."

Sara's ears perked at the name, and she rummaged through the photos on her desk, retrieving the photograph of the strange box she'd been studying earlier. "Is this it?" she asked him, handing the younger man the photo.

"Yeah, actually it is. He brought it by Talismaniac yesterday, to convince me in person to take it, but I didn't. He got real crazy and started offering to _give_ it to me, but I was a little freaked out, so I told him to leave instead."

"Why not?" Danny asked curiously. "Why didn't you take the artifact, that is? If he was offering it for free—"

"Well, there's not a whole lot of information about Raleigh's Box. It's based on a really… instable myth, to put it bluntly, and there isn't really a multitude of proof that says it's worth anything. He's the only one in the history of my career who's ever asked for it, so I don't have any buyers either."

"Do you have any _proof_ that he offered this to you for free?" Jake pulled out a pad of paper and pen, poised and ready, but Gabriel eyed the items with disdain.

"No, I don't, seeing as it was a _verbal conversation_," he said, annoyed. "Look, guys, am I being implicated in something here?"

"No," Sara said pointedly, shooting a glare at McCarty. "No, Gabriel, you're not being accused of anything. We're just trying to figure out whatever information we can about the victim. Jake, why don't you go get the box from the evidence locker for me?"

Jake looked dubious for a moment but, finally beat, sulked off toward the evidence room in the basement, leaving Sara, Danny, and Gabriel alone.

"I was at my apartment the whole morning, Sara. I swear it." Gabriel insisted, strung out. "You believe me, right?"

"Of course I believe you." Sara said. "But I was wondering if you could take another look at that photo for me—at the box. I want you to tell me everything you know about it—the myth, legend, whatever."

Gabriel took a seat. Danny watched silently as the younger man studied the photograph, running his fingers over the surface thoughtfully. "Well the theory goes like this: A philosopher of the 18th century, Edwin Raleigh, was a real big follower of realist human behavior theory. He subscribed to the idea that humans were essentially evil, that they had an innate immorality that caused them to always end up committing sin, no matter what their original intentions were. There's only one problem with realist theory though, which is that it cannot possibly be proved that humans have an inborn tendency toward sin, so to discredit all of his opposition, he decided to build a device that would prove his theory was correct."

Gabriel, now lost in thought, sat down in the chair opposite Sara's desk, still holding the photograph. "Well after that, no one ever really heard from him again until his death. He sort of became a hermit after his claim, never came out of the house much after that, living completely by himself. Since he shut off all contact with the rest of the world, the rest of the world kinda forgot him, and he lost his place among the more notable realist philosophers in history."

"So, this is supposed to be the device he created then?" Sara asked.

"Yeah, supposedly after Raleigh's death, the townsfolk were cleaning out his house and found this buried under a floorboard. Buried with it was a lengthy, written confession that claimed the Box was the ultimate proof of the innate tendency of human beings toward evil... The only problem is that no one's ever been able to recover the confession that supposedly existed, and so we can't really prove that this is the box in the legend."

"How did he die?" Danny asked.

Gabriel leaned back in the chair, scratching his chin. "Well that's the interesting thing, I guess. He committed suicide, actually—publicly."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "That's quite a coincidence."

Gabriel shrugged. "I guess."

"Well, if Torpe knew about this myth, though, couldn't he just have set his suicide up so that it looked like there were parallels? … I just don't know if I can buy this whole murder theory. We've got only insubstantial evidence to prove it."

"Danny's right." Gabriel admitted, setting down the photograph. "The guy was probably just a nut-job fanatic who's trying to perpetuate the myth."

Sara nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. Still, I'm gonna check the Box out in your name and let you take it home—do some research, see if you can find out anything else about it, like where Torpe might've gotten it from and such."

Jake walked back in with the bag, begrudgingly handing it over to Gabriel at Sara's request. "I'll see what I can do." Gabriel told her, standing up. He shot a brief look at Jake. "By the way, I brought you some coffee," he drawled.

"Thanks." Jake said, leaning back against Danny's desk smugly.

"See you later, Gabriel." Danny said, shaking his head at the rookie's disdain.

"I'm just gonna go with you to sign out the Box, OK?" Sara told Gabriel. "I'll be right back," she told her partners.

Sara waited until they were at a safe distance, out of earshot from the two men before pulling Gabriel aside. "I wanted to tell you something else about that thing," she explained. "It was when I was in the guy's apartment looking for evidence. I kept getting a weird feeling investigating the place, like I was supposed to be there or something. Then I found the Box stuffed under his bed and the Witchblade showed me some visions of the guy's death."

"Are you for real?" Gabriel looked at her.

"I wish I was lying, kiddo." Sara shook her head. "This thing's never gonna go away, is it?" She asked, exasperated.

"I guess not. It's all in your destiny, I suppose." Gabriel grinned. "Well, that should certainly make this more interesting. I'll definitely invest my interests in this, Pez."

"Great. Thank you so much, Gabriel. You have no idea what your help means to me."

"It's my pleasure." Gabriel waited until the Box was signed out in his name before saying goodbye to Sara and starting back home.

Sara watched him go, thankful for the artifacts dealer's interest in her job, realizing that his knowledge was coming in handy a lot lately. She sighed for the umpteenth time that morning and went back inside to work on the evidence.

_TBC…_


	3. 2 Catalysts

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Almost finished!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter Two – Catalysts **

Gabriel Bowman unlocked the door to his apartment and swung it open, discovering the place exactly as he'd left it—that is to say, a complete mess. He set the artifact down on the large table in the middle of the main room of the apartment where he cleaned and inspected his other artifacts, and walked over to the phone in his kitchen.

The red light on the answering machine was blinking. A digital number '3' was emblazoned on the screen. Gabriel sighed, pretty sure he already knew the source of the calls. Resisting the temptation to press 'delete,' Gabriel instead played the messages, and was utterly unsurprised to hear the sweet female voice of a girl he'd been seeing lately, Hannah Mathers, a waitress he'd met at a diner a few weeks earlier.

"Hey, Gabe, it's Hannah. I was just calling to say I had a great time last night and I hope—"

_Beep!_ Gabriel abruptly interrupted the message to switch to the next one, from his friend Sly.

"Hey man, I got your message. Turns out I can't get together Friday evening. I got a deadline for the comic that I've got to meet by Monday, and I can't take the time off to hang out with your sorry ass." Gabriel smirked at the sarcasm in his best friend's message. "Call me—I'll see if I, the working stiff, can fit you into my busy schedule."

There was another '_beep_' before the machine proceeded to the final message.

"Hi honey, it's me again!" –Hannah— "I know I just called, but I forgot to ask you whether you wanted to get together this weekend. We could go out to that Italian place my friend Becky works at—you know the one. What do you think? Um… call me. I miss you!" The message ended and Gabriel deleted them all.

Settling back against the counter he weighed his options, but ended up taking the more honorable route and dialed Hannah. She answered on the second ring, "Hello?"

"Hey, Hannah, it's Gabriel."

"Gabe! Hi sweetie, how's your day been?"

"Oh, it's been okay. I'm helping my friend Sara out with a case."

"Wow, that's so cool, Gabe. What're you helping with?"

"Uh, just some artifact stuff. I can't really go into detail—you know."

"Well, yeah, of course. I understand—Silly me! I always open my mouth and speak before I really think. It's a really bad habit of mine—"

"No, it's okay." There was a moment of awkward silence before Gabriel countered, "How has your day been?"

"Oh, it's just great!" she gushed. "I had my hair appointment this morning, and I went running with my sister. I feel so energized! You should really try it sometime—come running with me!"

Gabriel cringed, thankful that Hannah couldn't hear the grimace over the phone. "Uh, no thanks, I think I'm okay with the exercise I get."

"Ohhh, you're so lazy sometimes!" Hannah sighed. "I honestly don't know how you manage to stay so thin. Oh, hey, what about dinner on Friday? You know the restaurant I was talking about right?"

"Yeah, but I—"

"Great, and I was thinking we could maybe go catch that new Matt Damon movie too. What do you think?"

"Actually Hannah, I don't think I'm gonna be able to make it on Friday. I've got a lot of work to do for this case, and I sort of promised Sly I'd spend some time with him. I haven't seen him in awhile…"

It wasn't exactly true, Gabriel mused, about his not seeing Sly lately. He'd seen him two days ago, actually, but he just wasn't sure he could bear spending two evenings with Hannah so close together. He didn't know what it was about her; he just hadn't been able to _click_ with her for some reason. There was a definite barrier—the only problem was that he was the only one who seemed to sense it.

"Oh—I'm taking up all your time, aren't I? I'm sorry, sweetie. Of course, that's alright. Maybe we can try the restaurant sometime next week."

"Yeah, that sounds good… Sorry."

"It's alright!"

"Well, I gotta get going—I have to start work on this artifact stuff for Sara. I'll call you later."

"OK, I'll see you later, Gabe. Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye." Gabriel ended the phone call and paused thoughtfully for a few seconds before he dialed Sly's number. His friend picked up on the fourth ring, to the sound of loud rock music blaring in the background.

"This is Sly," he said by way of greeting.

"Hey man," Gabriel said.

"Oh, hey." There was a pause as the volume decreased and Sly returned to the phone. "You got my message?"

"Yeah—it's okay. I might have a lot of work to do for Sara this weekend, so it's not too much of a problem."

"We've got to get you out of the house more, young'n." Sly sighed. "When's the last time you hade a date, anyway?"

"It was last night, for your information. I'm not as unsocial as you seem to think."

"What's her name, again? Maya?"

"Actually, Maya was before… I'm sort of seeing this girl Hannah now."

"Hannah, what the hell happened to Maya? She was hot." Sly paused a moment. "For that matter, dude, what happened to Greta? And who was that chick before her—Tawny?"

Gabriel pushed himself up onto the countertop, chuckling. "Your knowledge of my dating history is astonishing. I haven't seen Tawny in months."

"You're missing the point. What was wrong with all those girls? You keep serial dating like this and you're never gonna settle down with anyone. You planning on being a bachelor for life? 'Cause I hate to say this my friend, but your boyishly charming looks won't last forever."

"Look at this: Sly the Dating Doctor. Who'd've thunk?" Gabriel drawled. "Since when do you invest in my romantic life?"

"Since you became the pickiest guy in the world! If you're not gonna keep them, at least hand one over to me!"

Gabriel laughed then got serious. "I don't really know what went wrong with the other girls… I just never clicked with any of them. Tawny wasn't too serious herself, and Maya… well she was such a materialist. It drove me crazy, I just couldn't picture myself with her. I don't know if it's gonna last much longer with Hannah either."

"Christ, Gabriel, what is it now?"

"I don't know… she's a really sweet person, honestly. I like her a lot, but I keep thinking there's someone else out there for me that I'm gonna like more, have more in common with… and it stops me from going too far with the girl I have now."

"You're gonna have to decide what you want and soon before this becomes an ugly habit—if it hasn't already," Sly told him. "Look, just go out with this Hannah girl a few more times, and try to find things you _like_ about her this time, _OK_? I gotta get going. I'm starting a new page, and I'm on a roll. I'll talk to you later, Gabriel."

"Aight, _thanks for the advice_, Sly." Gabriel smirked. "I'll talk to you next week."

Gabriel hung up, pondering his friend's words. Was he really being too picky about girls? _Yes, you are_, Gabriel thought disparagingly. But there was no warrant in worrying about that now. There was work that Sara needed done regarding the Witchblade, and as of late, the Witchblade was top priority.

o-o-o-o

"Look, rookie, the point is—you don't harass the witness based on insubstantial evidence—especially if the witness is a _friend_, who I've asked to help out with the case."

"If he's involved in the case, he shouldn't be working on it at all, Pez." Jake insisted, sparring with his female partner.

"If Gabriel's involved in the case, we'll know soon enough. Don't worry about it, McCarty. For now we need him to help us figure out the significance of that artifact."

"What makes you think that Box is important anyway, Sara?"

"Gut instinct," she answered curtly. "Never underestimate a woman's intuition, remember?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll lay off him for now. But if I find any more evidence that he had contact with Torpe, I'm bringing him in."

"Keep talking, rookie. Danny and I are going to go talk to some of the witnesses, ask if Torpe had any acquaintances in the area. You keep an eye on things here."

Sara and Danny picked up their coats and left the office, taking Danny's car back to the scene of the crime. They discussed Torpe's case and not much else on the way, the tension from earlier still evident to both.

"Well, I guess I'll start with—" Danny glanced at the sheet he was holding, "Mrs. Berman. Do you wanna take the next person on the list? He should live just a few houses down… John French."

"Sounds good to me. Meet you back at the car in twenty minutes?" Sara looked at her watch to get the time. Danny nodded and both parted their ways.

Sara had hardly walked twenty feet when she almost ran into a dark-clothed figure. "Jesus—Nottingham!" she exclaimed breathily, putting a hand on her chest to calm her beating heart.

"Lady Sara," Ian bowed his head at her. "You're looking lovely this morning."

"_You flatter me_," Sara drawled, pushing past him. Her stalker simply followed close by, speaking little, as he was accustomed to doing.

"I assume you're here to investigate the death of Robert Torpe. You could interview me. I witnessed his… 'suicide' this very morning."

"Of _course_ you did." Sara turned to look at him, pulling him off the sidewalk so Danny couldn't see them if he looked. "Look, I already know the Witchblade wants me to pursue this. If I find out Irons is behind yet another scheme to take this thing from me, I'm going to be _really_ pissed."

"...As in all moral panics, an accusation is enough to destroy a person's life. Hysteria trumps evidence." Nottingham quoted, preening. "Carol Tavris, psychologist."

"Fancy. What's your point?"

"You judge me too quickly, Lady Sara. I am here merely to assist in the case. It is true my master was aware of the situation with Torpe, but he had no part in the murder—"

"That you know of," Sara countered, then considered her reply. "I guess I should just be thankful that he's not the one killing innocent people this time… So if you're not here to warn me, set me up, or whatever it is you do these days, then what _are_ you here for?"

"Irons wished for me to monitor the situation. If there is a danger to you, there is a danger to the Witchblade. He has become rather fond of you, and if you are to be the Wielder, perhaps it would be more progressive for the two of you to get along."

"Not freakin' likely," Sara snorted, exiting the alley with Nottingham in tow. "I don't _need_ a bodyguard, Ian."

"But you _do_ need information, and I may have access to what you need to find out."

"Does your boss know who's involved this time?" Sara asked. "Because that would be the _really_ quick solution to this dilemma."

"Alas, we are as unaware as you of the party behind Torpe's unfortunate demise. But I'm always here to lend a hand, should you require my assistance."

"I'll tell you what you _can_ do, right now. You can get lost." Sara reached the front porch to the witness's house.

Nottingham looked thoughtful for a moment before bowing ever so slightly. "As you desire. I'll be around if you wish to speak with me more, Lady Sara."

"I know you will. I'll just ring the stalker bell the next time I—" Sara turned around to face him, but Nottingham was already gone. "I ought to put the bell on _you_," she muttered to herself.

o-o-o-o

Twenty minutes and one completely useless interview later, Sara was waiting by Danny's car for him to emerge. "Hey, I got nothing," Sara began. "French doesn't know any more than what we already got. What about you?"

"Berman was a little more responsive. I got the name of the church that Torpe attended. Apparently he goes to service every week, and knows the priest, although Berman wasn't sure on what level of intimacy. Torpe didn't go out much and socialize. He was always pleasant, the neighbors say, but not very open or friendly."

"So, you wanna check out this church, then?"

"What else have we got going for us at this point?"

o-o-o-o

Gabriel opened the evidence bag and carefully slid the Box out, placing it before him on the table. He examined the surface, sides, anything, memorizing details, running any references or symbols through the registry of his brain, trying to place them. If he could match symbol with meaning, he'd have more of an idea what Raleigh had in mind when he designed it.

It was the eye on the front that most caught his attention. The rest of the Box was mostly decorative design. The eye was the key.

_Well, that could mean any number of references_, Gabriel thought to himself. The eye was a common metaphor for truth—an open eye meant that the beholder could see clearly. If it had been closed, it would mean the beholder was blind, and couldn't see the truth. The open eye could also stand for perception, memory, envy, or clarity. In Egyptian mythology, the eye was the symbol of the Egyptian God, Horus. It stood for the "Eye of God," or "Eye of the Sky," which commonly meant the sun.

Mulling over all these possibilities, Gabriel focused in on the truth aspect. The eye was a deep red, and emblazoned amber wisps of fire. That could also mean a number of things—that the eye was evil, or that it _saw_ evil. The flames could represent rage, or destruction. They could also be a symbol for barrenness, as fire tended to consume and burn away everything it touched, whether good or bad.

This seemed to fit into Raleigh's theory of the nature of humans—if the eye was covered in flames it could mean that it saw the truth—that humans were inherently evil, and so were consumed by hatred and pain.

He spun the chair around and wheeled over to his computer. He looked up information about Raleigh's theory. The most-searched website popped up first and Gabriel clicked on it. He wasn't sure what he would find—he'd already been to the website four days earlier, when Torpe first called him, just to see what he could find, but had been thoroughly unimpressed with the availability of information.

Glancing through the page's information with new eyes, Gabriel noticed a passage that mentioned the duty of the Box. He read to himself quietly, "… 'Raleigh's Box is said to contain the truth of the human existence after the death of Christ and provided a channel through which the evidence of the inevitable human direction could ultimately be revealed.'"

He considered these words a moment before he turned back around and regarded the Box.

"Oh, what the hell," he said to himself and pulled himself back up to the table. Pressing the button on the front, Gabriel took the Box and pushed the lid open—

Almost immediately he was bombarded with a shocking series of violent images, mimicking that which the Box's preceding owner had experienced only four days earlier. Terrible visions of death, mutilation, and pain pervaded Gabriel's senses. He clenched his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, gripped the sides of the Box in a deathly clutch, but the images seethed into every part of his mind. He could almost _feel_ the pain of the unfortunate victims in his visions, and there was no doubt that he could feel the emotion—every single powerful emotion running through his brain simultaneously.

When it was all over he found himself sitting in his apartment still, seated at the table. Gasping for breath, Gabriel looked around then looked down at the Box. It was unharmed, but his knuckles were a deathly white from holding it in his grip.

What had he just witnessed?

Trembling with fear, Gabriel quickly snapped the lid of the Box shut and instinctively pushed it away from him, as if doing so would aid him in some way. There was no doubt in the young man's mind that whatever he'd just seen was a product of the artifact, most likely from _opening_ the artifact… but as far as the substance of the visions was concerned, he wasn't sure of the veracity. It was so genuine… and a nagging feeling inside of him told him that he had just witnessed a bitter taste of reality… but with the images of murder, pain and death so fresh in his memory, Gabriel wasn't ready to admit that all he'd just seen was true.

Pushing the chair away from the table slowly, Gabriel wiped a hand across his sweat-covered brow. His hands still shaking visibly, Gabriel tried to ignore it and stood up to walk to his kitchen. He opened up an overhead cupboard and pulled out a flask of Whiskey he usually kept hidden. He poured a glass, attempting to steady his hand, but splashed a few drops on the counter anyway. When he'd finally got a hold on his trepidation, Gabriel raised the glass to his lips, and froze when another vision hit him like a boulder.

_A blonde-haired woman in her forties is walking down the street. In the background, a statue can be seen, and lots of people. She turns a corner down a less busy street and nearly collides with a man in his thirties. The man grabs her roughly and pushes her against a wall. He yells for her to give him her purse._

_The man tries to wrench the purse free from her grasp and the woman screams in terror. He slaps her then pulls a knife out. She relinquishes the purse, but not before the man thrusts the weapon into her stomach. He takes the purse and runs off down an alley, leaving the injured woman alone._

_Grasping her stomach, the woman starts falling toward the pavement—_

And collided with a shattering of glass.

Gabriel snapped back to reality as the vision abruptly ended and looked down at his feet, where he'd dropped the glass of whiskey. Shards and liquid were all over the floor, but Gabriel paid no attention to them. He was 100 certain that the vision he'd just witnessed was going to happen… and it was up to him to stop it.

o-o-o-o

Sara and Danny walked inside the tall arches of the St. Martin Christian Mission Church to find a nearly empty building. The large interior was richly decorated, but a musty smell pervaded the air. A Latina woman and her two small children sat in a pew near the front, and further back, an elderly man knelt in prayer. Careful not to disturb them, Sara and Danny walked past the aisles of pews toward the front pulpit.

The Latina woman, finally succumbing to her son's insistent tugging at her sleeve, stood up to leave as the two partners reached the front row. She walked past them and Sara reached out an arm to stop her. "Excuse me—we're looking for Father Merrick. Do you happen to know if he's here today?"

"Oh sure, honey. He's always here." Holding her daughter's hand with one arm, she pointed with the other to a door off to the side. "He should be back there in his office. Second door on the left, as soon as you enter."

"Thank you," Danny said, and led the way toward the direction she'd pointed. He glanced around at the pulpit and the display of lit candles in the corner. "This is a really old building. I can't believe I never knew there was a church here before. I come down here all the time."

"Not much to notice about the place," Sara looked around disdainfully. "It could use a bit of sprucing up, if you ask me."

"Well, it's not the aesthetics that are supposed to make you want to come to church, it's the faith," Danny counseled sardonically. "It's nice to know that some people look past appearances to maintain their faith."

"To each their own," Sara shrugged. "Personally I still think you don't even need to attend church to maintain your religion. Personal faith and acts of kindness should be enough for a just God."

Danny smiled at her, used to her aversion toward organized religion. "To each their own," he smirked, holding the door open for her.

Father Merrick was in his office as the woman had claimed, skimming over some papers with a small pair of eyeglasses and simultaneously writing in a notebook off to the side. He was about 70, Sara noted, but in relatively good shape for someone his age. He looked startled when Sara knocked on the open door to warn him of their entrance.

"If you are waiting for confession, I'll be out in just a few minutes—"

"I don't have anything to confess," Sara stated, eliciting a look from Danny, which she ignored. "We're homicide cops—Sara Pezzini and Danny Woo—and we want to ask you a few questions about a supposed parishioner of yours."

"Homicide cops?" Father Merrick looked shocked, and removed his eyeglasses, setting them down on the desk. "And you want to talk to me?"

"Yeah," Danny answered. "I don't know if you known him, but his name is Robert Torpe—"

"Oh, no…" Merrick looked down, sadly, putting his hands together in a silent prayer. "Yes," he said. "I knew Robert. He's been coming here for many years… but why are you speaking to me? Why not his family?"

"Well that's the thing—Torpe lived alone, and we can't track down his family. We were told by a neighbor that he came here frequently, so we thought you might be able to give us a little information about his death."

"How did it happen?" The Father asked, gesturing for them to sit in the chairs in front of his desk."

"Suicide, we think," Sara replied simply. "He jumped off the roof of his apartment building this morning—you didn't see it on TV?"

"Oh, no, no. I don't watch much TV anymore. Too much talk of death and hatred."

"Tell me about it," Sara agreed.

"That is very unfortunate." Merrick shook his head in disappointment. "I knew Robert was depressed frequently, but I never thought he'd take his own life so violently."

"Can you tell us anything about his depression?" Danny asked. "Like, what was bothering him? Were there any people bothering him, specifically? Anyone that might want revenge on Torpe?"

"Well, Detective Woo, it's not exactly my job to implicate a person who might be innocent in the death of another man, as you know—"  
"Yes, sorry, but we really need to collect information on Torpe's death if we're going to figure out how it happened and whether anyone else was involved—"

"Didn't you just say it was suicide?" Merrick asked. "If he killed himself, why would anyone else be involved?"

"We're not… _entirely_ sure it was suicide." Sara took over for her partner. "Witnesses seem to think someone might have convinced Robert to jump. Like we said, though, we're just trying to gather information on Robert's life. You seem to have known him better than anyone else so far."

"Then I'm sorry to say I didn't know him very well either. He came in to confess once a month, but most of his concerns were about work, or regrets that he didn't keep in better contact with his family. There wasn't much else he usually had to say, except…" Father Merrick squinted in thought, reaching for a memory.

"I do recall he came in here three days ago, and he seemed a bit unsettled, but it was a Sunday, and my congregation was rather full. I was so busy attending to the Mariotti family, I must say I didn't pay much attention to Robert that day." A look of regret passed over the priest's face. "Perhaps if I'd been more gracious with my time, this wouldn't have happened—"

"Don't blame yourself, Father," Danny told him. "There was nothing you could have done to stop it."

"Still," Merrick sighed then looked up at the two. "That's about all the information I have. I'm sorry I could not be of more assistance."

"It's alright," Sara answered.

"I'll walk you out." Father Merrick stood and walked with them toward the entrance as Danny commented on the interior. They stood at the end of the aisle briefly, finishing their conversation. Sara saw a new person in the church, heading their way. He was in his mid-thirties, an average looking man. He lit a candle at the front of the room then walked toward where the trio stood.

He paused and greeted the priest at the entrance. "Father Merrick. It's nice to see you looking well. That was an inspiring sermon last Sunday."

"Thank you, Paul. I see you were here to light a candle. You worked with Robert Torpe at the bank, didn't you? It's nice of you to show concern for a coworker who has passed on."

Paul snorted derisively, emitting a strange look from the detectives and the priest. "Light a candle for Torpe? No Father, he doesn't deserve that much. I'm here to grieve for my grandmother. She's in the hospital with pneumonia and the family is praying for her. You wouldn't catch me grieving for Robert Torpe."

"God's love is all-embracing Paul. Remember that."

"Yeah, Father. I'll show him as much love as he would have shown me if I were the one to jump off a building in front of my neighbors." He glanced at Sara and Danny, looking Sara up and down with seeming approval, then headed for the exit. "I'll see you this Sunday, Father. Take care."

Upon his exit, Sara turned to Father Merrick questioningly. "Who was _that_?"

Merrick sighed. "That was Paul Reynolds. He's been quite a tough shell to crack, as far as my parishioners go. Not the most pleasant person."

"Nah, really?" Danny grinned sarcastically.

"Nonetheless, it is my duty to take care of my en_tire_ congregation, and that includes Paul. He works—_worked_—with Robert at the Fifth Third Bank. They've known each other for a few years, but absolutely despise each other for reasons I haven't been able to discern. He's usually the chief subject of Robert's complaints about work."

"And you didn't think to mention _him_ when we asked about Torpe?" Sara said.

"I didn't think it would be relevant. For all his talk about hating Robert, Paul is quite a passive man. I don't think he would ever act on his feelings toward Robert."

"Still, it might be worth checking out," Danny said. "Do you happen to have Mr. Reynolds' address?"

"Yes, I suppose that would be OK, assuming you'd find it yourself if I didn't." Merrick told him. It's in the back room, hold on. Let me get it."

"OK, thanks Father." The priest disappeared back into his office and Danny turned to Sara. "What do you think, Pez?"

"I think we've got ourselves our first suspect." Sara had barely finished her sentence when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered, "Detective Pezzini—" Her expression went from surprised to confused, then concerned. "Gabriel—wait, wait… Slow DOWN Gabriel. What are you talking about?"

On the other end of the line, Gabriel paced frantically in his apartment, holding the phone tightly. "I said, I need your help," Gabriel insisted. "I need you to go to Central Park, where it crosses Parker Avenue _immediately_."

"What for?"

"There's something I need you to do, and I can't do it myself because I don't have a car to get there fast enough. Are you nearby?"

"Yeah, I'm right outside Central Park—why? What's going on? What do you want me to help you do?"

"I need you to save someone's life."


	4. 3 Heroics

WOW, I can't believe how long it has taken me to update this story. This must be some kind of record—90 of this story has been done for well over a year and yet I still just decided not to post any more… Either I really don't have faith in my ability to finish a fic, or my motivation to write stories for a cancelled TV show just isn't there like I thought it was…

In any case, I am very sorry for whatever readers I may have had for this fic. Recent occurrences have motivated me to finally finish it, but I'll bet any of you out there who read it two years ago probably thought you'd never hear anything from me again.

Well, I'm still here! And here's the third chapter! I plan to update steadily until it's finished this time, I PROMISE! -Kara

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Almost finished!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter Three - Heroics**

"OK, Gabriel, you're gonna have to run that by me again."

"You need—Look, are you alone?"

"I'm with Danny. We're getting information on a suspect in Torpe's case." Danny looked at her imploringly, but Sara just turned so she wasn't facing him anymore.

"You gotta lose him," Gabriel said quickly,

"I have to—_what_? No, Gabriel, I can't—"

"This is something you're probably gonna need the Witchblade for, assuming you ever get there, so you're gonna have to trust me on this one when I say _go alone_."

"Alright, alright I get it, Gabriel. I'll be there as fast as I can. Hold on a minute," Sara covered the mouthpiece with her hand and faced Danny with a cringe. "I need to borrow the car."

"What's going on, Pez? What do you need my car for?"

"It's Gabriel—he needs my help with something… right now."

"Well, can't it wait until I get the number from Father Merrick? He should be back in just a few minutes."

"Sorry, but—no, it can't wait. If I'm gonna—" Sara sighed. "I gotta go _now_."

"And you can't tell me why?" Danny leveled with her.

Sara wanted to blurt it all out to him, like every other time she'd wanted to blurt the truth out to her partner, but the urgency in Gabriel's voice told her now was not the time for big explanations, assuming there ever was a decent time. "No, Danny. I can't tell you."

This time Danny sighed, but he reached into his pocket nonetheless and pulled out his keys. "Fine. But I'm only doing this because I trust you completely, you know that, right?"

"Yes, yes I do, and I trust you too Danny, there's just some things… that I can't tell you yet." Sara took the keys and started for the door. "Just get the number for Reynolds, and maybe see if you can get any more information about Torpe out of Father Merrick. He seems to trust you more than he trusts me anyway. I'll come back and pick you up just _as soon as_ I'm finished_—_"

"Just go." Danny waved at her.

"Thank you Danny!" Sara turned her back and ran for the vehicle, raising the phone back to her ear. "Gabriel? You there?"

"Yeah, you got me, you alone now?"

"Yes, and Gabriel, you _owe_ me one, big time."

"I know, I know. OK, where am I going?"

"The direction of that Italian restaurant on Parker Avenue—you know where that is?"

Sara answered in the affirmative. "I'm about five minutes away. Now what am I gonna _find_ there, Gabriel?"

"A woman—a blonde woman in her forties and a younger man. The woman's going to be mugged by the man, and he's gonna pull a knife on her. He's going to stab her in an alley and kill her unless someone stops it."

"Should I ask how you know all this anyway?"

"You could, but I don't really know myself. I just _know_ that this is going to happen, and I'm supposed to stop it somehow. You're the first person I thought of who could help. I'll explain it all to you later, you've just got help right _now_."

"Alright, I'll hold you to that." Sara stepped on the gas to avoid a yellow light and turned the corner sharply. "I'm almost there, is there anything else you can tell me?"

Gabriel massaged his temple. "Um, the woman is wearing khakis and a purple blouse… the guy had on… I think blue jeans a black t-shirt. I hope that helps."

"I hope so too. I'll call you back later, okay?" Sara hung up and put the phone back into her pocket as the restaurant Gabriel had mentioned came into view. She thanked whatever God was up there that she found a parking space nearby and pulled into it, getting out quickly.

She started running along the pavement, glancing at the passersby, looking for the alley Gabriel might have been talking about, and trying to ignore the immense confusion at the promptness of his instructions. _Worry about that later,_ Sara told herself. _Right now, you've got to worry about the victim_…

Sara stopped running when she reached the intersection and glanced around wildly. She was about to call Gabriel back and ask him if he could be more specific, but at that moment she saw a man with blue jeans and a black t-shirt walking down the street, looking around warily.

She followed his vision ahead and saw the blonde woman Gabriel must have been referring to walking toward him from another direction. She trailed him as the man turned a corner into a less-populated alley and pushed himself against a wall. He was _waiting_ for her, Sara realized, and she hurried her pace.

_If she didn't reach them in time_…

The woman checked her watch and turned the corner, in a hurry. She ran into the younger man, and he grabbed her roughly. She struggled, trying to get away. "Give me your purse, lady," he demanded, gripping her arm, tightly. He grabbed for her purse with one hand, reaching for something in his pocket with the other…

But before he could raise the knife, Sara kicked her leg up into his side and knocked him off balance. He stumbled, releasing the woman for a moment, but she was too terrified to run. He reached for the knife again and pulled it, facing Sara, the woman in between them.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, scowling.

"The Tooth Fairy, who do you think?" Sara snarled. She looked at the woman. "Get out of here," she told her.

The woman paused, frightened. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Just trust me. Get the hell out of here. Call the police."

She looked around warily one more moment before running past Sara back into the open. Sara could hear her calling for the cops, and the mugger glared at her.

"That was a wrong move," he told her angrily and lunged. Sara swung her first around at the same time and watched as it transformed into the gauntlet. The metal glove connected with the mugger's head with an ominous thud and he went careening into the brick wall. He slumped to the ground, out could, and the gauntlet retracted. Sara stepped back, impressed, and kicked the knife away from his limp hand, in case he woke up. Several moments later, a pair of cops came around the corner, accompanied by the blonde woman and looked at the mugger then at Sara, impressed.

"How did you—" the woman began, but stopped. "Thanks."

"Any time. I've, uh—I've got to go now." Before the police officers could stop her to ask for her account of the incident, Sara had jogged back to the car. She turned the key in the ignition and muttered to herself, "Gabriel, you'd better have a really good explanation for this."

o-o-o-o

Sara sat at the table, head cocked slightly to the left, staring at the artifact before her on the table with intense curiosity. Behind her, leaning against the wall, Gabriel stood, arms folded.

"So you think Raleigh's Box had something to do with the vision?" She said, finally, turning the artifact carefully, as if it might explode. After Gabriel's description of how it had affected him, she didn't want to take any chances. She already had one supernatural curse.

"I'm positive it did. I don't know… _why_, or what I'm supposed to do now, or what affect I've had on the future… now that I've changed it, somehow… but I'm pretty sure the Box _wanted_ me to save that woman."

"The _Box_ wanted you to save a person's life?" Sara looked at the small thing again, trying to contain her skepticism. "How do ya figure?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Like I said… I have no idea."

"Has it done anything else… since the first time?"

"No, I haven't had any more visions. It could just be a one-time thing. I just don't understand the connection. I mean, what does this have to do with the woman who got mugged? What does it have to do with _Robert Torpe_, for that matter?" Gabriel paced the kitchen, rubbing his temple.

"You feeling okay?" Sara asked.

"Yeah, I've just got a headache now."

"Understandable." Sara stood up from the chair. "I can take the Box back with me if you want."

"No." Gabriel stopped her. "I haven't had a chance to finish studying it yet. It all happened pretty quickly when I opened the Box. Besides, it's safer here. If you take it back, someone else might open it, and the same thing might happen to them. I think it's better off in our hands until we figure out what this thing does."

"And what connection it has to Robert Torpe's death," Sara concluded. "Good point. Well, I've got to get going."

"You probably owe Danny a pretty big explanation," Gabriel said apologetically.

"Yeah, I—Oh shit, Danny!" Sara's eyes got wide. "I left him at the church!" She glanced at Gabriel's wall clock. "It's been like an hour! He's gonna be real pissed." She started for the door. "I've got to go. If anything more happens with the Box, call me immediately, OK?"

"You got it. I'll see what else I can figure—ugh—" Gabriel let out a strangled cry, digging the heels of his palms into his temple. Sara watched him grimace then start to collapse, but she caught him before he slid to the ground, gently guiding him into a sitting position.

_Two little children—around 7 and 8—play with a ball on the front lawn of a house… A white van, sans license plates, pulls up to the curb and the door slides open. The kids look up fearfully, the ball falls to the ground unheeded._

_Three men in ski masks hop out of the van and grab the kids before they can run. The children are abducted and the doors slide shut. It all happens in less than a minute. A distraught woman comes running out of the house screaming at the receding van, but her words are drowned out by the screech of the car as it disappears from sight…_

"What? What is it?" Sara's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

Gabriel put his head between his legs, trying to regain his composure. "I just had another vision," he gasped finally.

Sara sighed, sitting back on her haunches. "So, not a one-time thing then, huh?"

Gabriel looked up at her. "Think we can make a pit stop on the way to the church?"

o-o-o-o

Sara looked out the window of the vehicle at the large, white paneled house. "You sure this is the place?"

"Yes," Gabriel answered her. "This is the house in my vision. I thought the woman looked familiar. Her name is Victoria Frank. She's the head lawyer in charge of—"

"The ongoing case against Rogan Fletcher—the mobster up for four accounts of first-degree murder. Yeah, I know who she is."

"I thought you might. Anyway, I remember seeing some of the case on TV the other day and I thought the woman in my vision looked familiar. Now that we're here, I'm _sure_ this is the place." Gabriel and Sara looked out the window and saw two kids—a girl and a boy—playing on the front lawn. "That must be them," Gabriel said in awe.

"Well, then it should be happening soon, right?" Even as she said it, a white van turned the corner and barreled past where they were parked several houses down from the Frank residence. "Jesus, Gabriel, do you think your visions could allow us a little more _time_?" Sara got out of the car and pulled her gun, Gabriel following in hot pursuit.

"Kids! Hey, you kids! Get out of there!" She waved her arms frantically at the kids, who looked up at her curiously. "Go inside! GO!"

When the van stopped at the curb, both the kids took flight, running up the long lawn to their house. The three men in the van wasted no time chasing after them, but when they saw Sara, they stopped.

"Freeze! NYPD—you're under arrest!"

None of the men moved.

"I said you're under arrest! Put your hands in the air."

One of the men raised his hands in the air tentatively, but while Sara was distracted, another reached for a handgun at his side. Before she knew what was happening, she was being shot at. The Witchblade expertly blocked the first three bullets, but when a second would-be-kidnapper pulled a gun, she knew she was outnumbered. She jumped behind the nearest vehicle, pushing a shocked Gabriel along with her.

"Get down!" She screamed at him.

"What the hell is going on! There weren't any guns in the vision." Gabriel leaned against the trunk of the car heavily.

"Well your powers that be must have conveniently left that part out, didn't they?" Sara looked over the car quickly to check the status. "Shit. One of them's going after the kids in the house. Gabriel, if you get to the car, do you think you can radio for backup?"

"I—I think I can _try_ to figure out how to do that." Gabriel shrugged wildly.

"You're gonna have to. Alright, go when I say so, OK? I'm gonna put down some cover for you."

"Okay."

Taking a deep breath, Sara launched from behind the car and started firing with one hand, blocking bullets with the other. "Go!" she shouted to Gabriel, who instantly ducked from behind the car and made a mad dash for Danny's vehicle.

Sara continued firing, and one of her bullets found a mark, striking a gunman in the gut. The other ducked behind a van. Sara checked on Gabriel quickly, seeing that he'd quickly gotten a hang of the radio. If she could hold out long enough for the police to arrive, they'd be okay, but she was quickly running out of bullets.

"Who are you!" The kidnapper behind the van shouted, exasperated.

"I'm getting that a lot today. I'm starting to think I should pass out business cards or something," Sara shouted back.

"How are you blocking our bullets like that?"

"It's a secret," Sara rolled her eyes and winced as another few rounds pinged off the side of the car she was hiding behind.

"You're not gonna stop all of us!"

"I've already stopped one of you!"

Another round of bullets hailed her way, but this time from the direction of the house. Sara shifted her position behind the van when she saw the third kidnapper running from the house… with the little girl in his arms.

"Damn it!" she cursed, thinking quickly. Unable to come up with anything better, she shot out the front tires of the kidnappers' van. She heard the one behind it curse loudly and return fire. Peeking over the roof of the car, Sara saw Victoria Frank herself emerging from the house, screaming at the kidnappers. Using the distraction to her advantage, Sara launched from behind the car and around to the other side, but not before she felt a stinging sensation in her left arm. Ignoring the explosion of pain, Sara appeared behind the first kidnapper, easily disarming him and incapacitating him with a kick to the head. The second kidnapper was inside the van, attempting to shoot at the mother, who had ducked behind her porch.

Finally relinquishing control of the situation, the remaining kidnapper closed the van door and pushed the kid into the back seat, climbing into the driver's seat himself—only to be stunned by Sara's crushing blow as the Witchblade transformed into gauntlet-form and smashed through the driver's side window. She raised her gun to his temple. "Drop your weapon," she demanded, "And get out of the car."

The kidnapper did as he was told, just as the sirens in the distance got louder and several cop cars appeared on the street. The cops took over for Sara and Gabriel rushed up to meet them as the little girl in the van had a tearful reunion with her equally distraught mother.

"Sara, you're bleeding!" Gabriel said, concerned, when he saw the blood running down Sara's arm, below the shoulder.

Sara glanced at the injury, wincing. "Yeah, looks like it." She sighed. "Nothing too serious, though I'd better get this checked out."

"Come on, the ambulance is over there."

Victoria Frank intercepted them before they got to the ambulance, giving both Gabriel and Sara a hug. "Thank you, thank you so much for what you've done. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here to—Oh God, _thank you_."

"You're welcome Mrs. Frank," Sara told her, sitting down to be checked out by a paramedic. She looked at Gabriel critically. "I hope this is your last excursion for the day, kid."

Gabriel ran an errant hand through his hair. "Me too."

_TBC…_


	5. 4 Consequences

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Almost finished!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter Four - Consequences**

"So, let me get this straight: You _happen_ to take a wrong turn getting back to the church to pick me up and you end up ten city blocks away at the house of Victoria Frank, just before her two kids are about to be kidnapped by mobsters working for Rogan Fletcher?" Danny gave her a disparaging look. Sara was too frozen to answer. "And you did all this _after_ you prevented a purse snatching in Central Park and went to pick up Gabriel?"

"You said you wanted the truth," Sara told him. "That's what I did today."

Danny laughed, at his wit's end. "Yes, Sara. I said I wanted _the truth_. Somehow I can't help but think that you're leaving out a good part of it though… Now what could give me _that _idea? Oh—maybe it's the fact that you haven't told me _how_ you knew about those crimes!"

Sara didn't speak, at a loss for words. There was no possible explanation as to why she would be in three different parts of town in two hours to prevent as many crimes. She'd just plain run out of excuses.

"I know you have secrets you want to keep Sara, but you can't keep expecting me to be okay with that. I'm your partner. I've known you for years, and I don't want to see you get hurt like you did today. You could have been killed!"

"I could be killed every day I'm on this job."

"Yeah, but the odds of it happening every day have increased ever since you met Gabriel—"

"Hey," Sara stopped him. "Do NOT blame Gabriel Bowman for my attitude lately. He has _nothing_ to do with how I've been behaving."

"Nothing?"

"…OK, well he might have _something_ to do with today, but we haven't exactly figured the 'why' part out yet… In any case, he's not responsible for my actions, and I don't want you to blame him."

"Then _what!_ What is it that's making you continue to lie to me!"

Before Sara could answer the door to the office they were in opened and Jake leaned in. "Pez, Gabriel's on the phone. He says it's an emergency."

Danny threw his arms in the air. "Of course it is."

Sara looked at her partner apologetically. "Danny, I have to take this—"

Danny nodded solemnly. "I know you do. Just don't expect me to be here when you get back."

Helpless to respond, Sara stood and left the room, taking the phone on her desk.

"Sara? I think I've figured out the purpose of Raleigh's Box."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

o-o-o-o

"So Raleigh wanted to prove to people that the world was basically evil, right?"

Sara looked at him. "Go on."

"But he has no way of proving this substantially, so he looks for further evidence. He builds the Box, and somehow transforms it into a device that shows people the truth of human nature—_don't ask me how_. Anyway, he instills this power into the Box, and adorns it with the blazing eye on the front. The eye is a symbol for truth, kind of like the "all-seeing eye," and because it's engulfed in flames, it means the truth is … evil. All the eye can see is the evil in the world."

Gabriel walked to the other side of the room, his expression heated. "Anyone who opens the Box must want to know the truth about the world too. Raleigh's colleagues never respected him for his radical beliefs, so he decided to show them the truth physically—by allowing them to look into the Box. Now, here's something that never got into history books— Edwin Raleigh was once suspected of being involved in the deaths of several social theorists of his time who were in _opposition_ to him. Three men, they all committed suicide within two years. Raleigh's Box was suspected to have something to do with it."

"Anyone who opens it ends up offing themselves?" Sara asked, concerned.

"Well, in a sense, I guess. Basically anyone who opens it sees the evil things that are happening in the present, and if all they can see is evil, then that's all they believe exists. When they opened the Box, they were instilled with visions of evil, visions that ended up driving them mad and acting as a catalyst for suicide."

"Well, aren't you afraid that might happen to you?" Sara regarded the younger man, who seemed not to realize his predicament.

"No, I'm not. For one thing, I realize that the visions are intended to only show you evil. I, however, know that good exists—I mean you're living proof, aren't you? Raleigh's colleagues probably weren't able to stop the visions from happening, because of the limited resources of their time, but it's a lot easier for us to prevent these things from happening. We can use this to our advantage—we can use this to save innocent people's lives!"

Sara wasn't convinced. "Still, I don't know Gabriel… I don't think it's such a good idea to be messing with the future like this. Sooner or later this is bound to come back and kick you in the ass."

"What makes you so sure? Maybe I'm the one to beat this thing. I mean, I've got a legendary warrior on my side, how can I lose!" Gabriel beamed. "At least help me out until we can figure out how to stop the visions," Gabriel said. "Come on, this is a good thing."

Sara sighed. "If you say so." Sara had to admit it was a tempting idea—the chance to save more lives… but that didn't stop her from being concerned at the detrimental effect it was having on her own…

o-o-o-o

The negative effects continued into the next day, as Sara trudged into the precinct—weary from only four hours of sleep—and found out that Danny had asked to be paired with another detective for the day. She'd tried to confront him about it, but he avoided her until he was able to leave to a new crime scene and the chance had been lost.

Now she was driving alongside default partner, McCarty, on their way to Paul Reynolds' house in Manhattan. "You look like hell," the rookie had commented airily when she climbed into the passenger's side next to him. "You get much sleep last night?"

"Not enough," Sara answered, too tired and too much in pain from the wound to her arm to come up with anything more substantive. After his explanation of the Box, Gabriel had had another vision of a tragic car crash which they'd just barely been able to prevent. Sara had gone home to rest, but Gabriel called her four more times that night to help him prevent two more muggings, a rape, and a convenience store holdup that would have killed two clerks. The visions seemed to be increasing as the night went on, and Sara wasn't sure how much more she could take. She'd only just come from the second mugging when she realized it was time to go back to work. She almost welcomed the slower pace of the Torpe case.

Paul Reynolds lived alone in an apartment building in Manhattan's lower East Side. It was roughly middle-class, not nearly as nice as Torpe's apartment. Reynolds answered after a few moments, and a scowl came instantly over his face.

"You're that woman from the church yesterday, aren't you?"

"Detective Pezzini, homicide. This is Detective McCarty. We're here to ask you a few questions about Robert Torpe's death."

"I don't know anything about Torpe," Reynolds answered abruptly. "You heard me yesterday. I hated the guy, why would I care about his personal problems?"

"Word has it, you _were_ part of his personal problems," McCarty provided.

Reynolds opened his mouth to speak and sighed. "We've been competing these last few months for the same promotion at the bank we _both work at_. That sort of thing tends to give you a certain animosity toward your competition," Reynolds said sardonically. "Especially when it's obvious that you need that promotion more than the other guy."

"Enough animosity to drive a man to kill himself?" Sara countered.

"No." Reynolds looked at her indignantly. "Enough animosity to make his life at work a personal hell, but I didn't push the guy off a building, for Chrissake. That stupid bastard did it himself. And I don't feel one bit sorry for him."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Look, can we just get your number in case we have any more questions about Torpe?"

"I'm in the phone book. You can look me up if you need me that badly." Without another word, Reynolds slammed the door in their faces.

"How about that woman's intuition now, Pez?" McCartey asked as the two descended the steps toward their vehicle.

"Well, he certainly has a motive—the promotion. As far as whether he had any part in the crime…" Sara shook her head, thinking of the Witchblade. "I can't tell yet."

o-o-o-o

At their lunchtime, Jake confessed to having some paperwork for a previous case to finish up, which was just fine in Sara's opinion, because it meant she could go see Gabriel. He hadn't called her all morning and she was beginning to worry, though she was also slightly grateful that she hadn't had any more spontaneous acts of vigilantism to perform since that morning.

Glancing briefly at the telltale Talismaniac logo on the door, Sara knocked twice and stood back. "Come in!" Gabriel's voice called out from the other side and Sara pushed the door open. The young artifacts dealer was sitting at his kitchen table surrounded by piles of old, weather-worn books and documents that looked like they were around as long as the Witchblade.

"Hey, Pez, I'm glad you're here—"

"Not another vision…?"

"No, not since this morning," Gabriel told her, not looking up from his research. "I just wanted to tell you about this new thing I found regarding Raleigh's Box—" Gabriel scrambled for something in a pile of papers that had grown considerably in the time she'd been away. Sara cocked an eyebrow suspiciously and regarded her younger friend.

"Christ Gabriel, you look terrible!" she commented, noticing the dark rings under his eyes.

"Thank you, should I log that away as a compliment?" Gabriel drawled, not looking up.

"Did you get _any_ sleep last night, kid?"

"Well I tried—" Gabriel said idly, still ignoring her. "But I couldn't get to sleep. Every time I tried I had another vision, and when I wasn't having premonitions I kept getting these visions of Torpe committing suicide… and considering the potential that I may be heading down that same path, well… I've been having a little trouble getting to sleep." Gabriel grinned sheepishly at her then thrust a photograph at her that he'd been holding at his side.

"You having second thoughts about this 'superhero' status of yours?" she asked, taking the photograph, which appeared to be a picture of an old document written in another language.

"Of course not. I'm good. Until we can figure this out, I'm ready to keep going."

"I'm not gonna let what happened to Torpe happen to you, Gabriel." Sara told him, leveling with him. "You know that, right?"

"Of course," Gabriel told her then grinned, Sara assumed, for her benefit.

"So, what's this?" She held up the photo.

"It's a letter written by Raleigh. I can tell because it's in his handwriting, but it doesn't really make sense. It's written like a prophecy. Rather long-winded—I suspect Raleigh was pretty high on himself to even consider writing something like this about his 'creation'—but it basically says that the holder of the Box will be gifted with the 'true burden of humanity,' essentially the knowledge of human evil. I guess he meant that whoever opens the Box will get the visions. He goes on to say that since the knowledge is so grave, that anyone who looks upon the truth will be cursed with that knowledge. Anyone who gets the visions… will die."

Gabriel finished and Sara looked up at him. "And all this hasn't deterred you from continuing your rescue missions?"

Gabriel shrugged then sighed. "I don't know… I mean, when I get a vision I really get the feeling that I'm supposed to do something about it—like it's my destiny or something. You of all people should understand the burden of destiny. It's not that much different from you and the Witchblade, isn't it?"

"Well, you'd know more about that than I do… But still, I don't like the feel of this Gabriel. The Witchblade warned me about that artifact. Usually that means very bad things are about to go down, and I don't want you to rush headlong into something like this."

"I understand, it's just—you don't know. You can't possibly know what it's like to have these visions. Well, of course you can't, but still… I'm not gonna stop, Sara. I can't."

Gabriel's eyes suddenly rolled back in his head and he started for the floor again. Sara, cursing under her breath, rushed forward and pulled him into a chair before he could crumple to the ground. A few seconds later he opened his eyes again, breathing heavily.

"You've got to learn to sit down when you feel one of these coming on, or your luck is gonna run out pretty soon."

"There's not really much warning, Pez. It just sort of… happens."

"What is it now?"

Gabriel stared at her coolly. "Just your run of the mill murder this time."

o-o-o-o

Sara called into Jake that she'd be late coming back from lunch and drove Gabriel on her motorcycle to a branch of the New York Post, where he'd claimed the murder took place. "There was a guy sitting behind a huge desk. I didn't see the name too clearly—I think it said Les—Leslie?"

"Leslie Hart—he's a major reporter for the Post. He just ran a story last week exposing a police chief in the 55th Precinct for corruption… The cop ended up committing suicide before they could take him in."

"Well someone—relative, coworker, or friend—wants some serious revenge for the story. A gunman gets in some how and shoots Hart three times. I think we can stop it from happening."

"I'm gonna have to trust you on that." Sara said, pulling into the parking garage and taking the nearest space she could find. She and Gabriel rushed up to the receptionist's office. "Is Leslie Hart in?"

Sara asked the woman.

"Yes, he is, but I'm afraid he's in a meeting. You're going to have to write down your name and Mr. Hart will schedule an appointment with you as soon as he can—"

"Excuse me," Gabriel snuck a peek at the woman's name placard. "—Jenny." He grinned at her coyly. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, honestly, but I have some incredibly urgent news for Mr. Hart that can't wait until tomorrow or even later today. You don't think it's the least bit possible we could sneak up there for just a minute?"

Jenny smiled wanly at Gabriel and replied, "No, I'm afraid not, sir. Now, if you'll just give me your names—"

When the woman started to reach for her pen, Sara stepped in, pulling out her badge. "Detective Sara Pezzini, from the 11th Precinct. I'm an informant for Mr. Hart and I have some urgent news that I need to give him right away. If you could just please allow us to go up, I'd really appreciate it."

Jenny regarded the badge for a moment then said, "Just a moment, I'll see if he's busy." She stood up and left and Sara threw a sidelong glance at Gabriel.

"Cool it, Casanova. Getting us kicked out is _definitely_ not gonna do us any good."

Gabriel shrugged and turned around, scanning the waiting room with his eyes. There were about ten people hanging around the room, either waiting in chairs or talking to coworkers. So far, none of them looked familiar… until the door opened and a man in his thirties walked in, looking around earnestly.

"Oh my God, Sara—that's him," Gabriel whispered urgently.

"Where?" Sara turned around and saw immediately who Gabriel was talking about. He was heading their way… "I'll go stall him." She stepped away from the counter and intercepted the man, who looked concerned at her interference.

"Excuse me, but do you work here?" Sara asked sweetly.

"No, I'm just looking for someone."

"Are you sure? Because you look so familiar, I could have sworn you were that guy who wrote those amazing editorials on the Henrietti restaurant chain last month?"

"No, that wasn't me. I'm in a hurry, ma'm. Excuse me—" He began to push past her but Sara reached out a hand to stop him.

That was the moment that Leslie Hart and his receptionist chose to walk back into the room.

"You!" the man in front of Sara shouted, immediately attracting the attention of everyone in the room. "You're the one who wrote those lies about Chief Tamblyn!"

Leslie Hart, a gray-haired man in his early fifties, actually grinned, looking at the intruder pitiably. "Excuse me? Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a friend of his! A friend that had to walk in and find him dead in his own home, hanging from a rope from the ceiling, all because you had to say those things about him."

"I hate to tell you this, buddy, but those things were the truth. I'm sorry Chief Tamblyn couldn't handle the truth about himself, but that's his problem, not mine."

"They were lies! Chief would never do something like that!" Sara tried to calm the man down, but he would have none of it. "So now it IS your problem!"

A lot of things happened at once that neither Sara, nor Gabriel, for all their premonitions, were ready for. The intruder pulled out a pistol from his pocket and raised it to fire. Hart's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he tried to dive out of the way. Sara tried to disarm the man, but he was surprisingly strong, pushing her off of him with the other arm. He fired a few rounds in the direction of Hart. People behind them screamed and began to run for the nearest exits.

Sara jumped back in for a second round, tackling the man to the ground and landing a vicious punch to his jaw. Her arm ached like hell from the hit, but in her adrenaline rush, she tried to ignore the pain. The shooter dropped his weapon and scrambled to regain it, but Sara got the first, kicking it away from his reach. She pulled the man's hands behind his back just as a number of security guards rushed in to help.

Relinquishing the shooter to their custody, Sara turned around and immediately paled. Leslie Hart was still standing, uninjured and shaken, but his receptionist, Jenny was lying on the ground next to him in a pool of her own blood.

Gabriel knelt by her side, checking her neck and then her wrist fervently for a pulse. Sara rushed over and knelt down on Jenny's other side. "I can't feel a pulse." Gabriel told her bluntly. "Sara, help me."

Sara looked down at the young woman's eyes, still open with a faraway look in them, then at the blood staining the tiled floor around them. She didn't need to check for a pulse. She already knew they were too late.

"Come on, Gabriel." Sara reached out and tugged on her friend's arm. "We've got to get out of here, before we have to try to explain this to someone."

"But—this wasn't supposed to happen." Gabriel muttered, thunderstruck. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

"I know, but she's gone, and there's nothing we can do to fix that. We gotta go, _now_." Using a little more force, Sara pulled her friend up and whisked him out of the room past the wandering eyes of the curious victims in the room.

"You don't understand, Sara," Gabriel said pleadingly, when they reached the parking garage. "In my vision—Hart died, but that was it. No one else died in my vision. No one else was supposed to die. I did that."

Sara wanted to say it wasn't his fault, but how could she argue when they had clearly changed the course of the future with their actions? "Maybe this is a hint, Gabriel." Sara told him. "Maybe this is a sign you should stop this. The Box was created to show evil, maybe that's all it ends up causing."

"But all those other people's lives—" Gabriel shook his head. "I saved those people's lives, I can save more. I just have to do this right. I have to figure it out faster."

"No, Gabriel, you don't get it. You're messing with history here. You can't keep doing this and expect everything to turn out okay."

Gabriel turned away from his friend, refusing to meet her gaze. "This was a fluke. It wasn't supposed to happen, but I can accept that it did. That doesn't mean I'm ready to stop helping people in my visions. I was supposed to have these premonitions—"

"Maybe you _weren't_, Gabriel!" Sara finally shouted, exasperated. "Maybe _that_ was a fluke!"

Gabriel regarded her angrily. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," Sara admitted. "The Witchblade obviously warned me about this for a reason. I just have a hard time believing that the powers that be picked a teenaged artifacts dealer to be the savior of the earth."

"Oh, but it's so much more believable that they picked a New York police detective to do it?" His tone was angry now, and Sara was instantly affronted.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant—"

"You just meant that it's alright if you're saving people from the forces of darkness, but if someone else tries it, then they're just trying to boost their ego by being a hero?"

"You're out of line, Bowman." Sara countered, looking at him gravely.

"No, I think I'm right on target, for once. I'm sick of living in your shadow all the time, Pez. I can help people too, I _have_ helped people, and if you can't accept that you're not the only one with the power to do so now, then maybe I should do it on my own."

"Oh, yeah, I'd like to see you try that," Sara said sardonically. "Please, try to save all of New York City without a vehicle."

"I'll find a way," Gabriel said begrudgingly, turning and walking away.

"You're gonna get yourself killed!" Sara shouted after him, too angry to tell him to stop. Where did he get off implying that she was _jealous_ of his abilities? She couldn't think of a more ridiculous suggestion.

"At least I won't be sitting on my ass and watching others get killed! You're the one that talks to ghosts, Pezzini." Gabriel yelled, slamming the door to the stairs open. "I'll be more than _happy _to leave that part to you."

Sara stood in her spot a moment after he'd disappeared, silently fuming then headed in the direction of her motorcycle. _Let the kid get himself killed_, she thought angrily. If he didn't want her help, then that was _his_ problem. She had her own case to get back to.


	6. 5 Reconaissance

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Almost finished!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter Five – Reconnaissance**

After her argument with Gabriel in the parking garage, Sara didn't hear from him for the rest of the day. She returned to the precinct, apologizing to Jake for her 'late lunch,' realizing only then that she hadn't actually grabbed a lunch, nor had she eaten anything since the previous night. Sighing inwardly, she resigned herself to starvation for the rest of her shift, realizing that if she picked up food now, it would definitely set off some warning bells in front of McCarty, who was already suspicious enough as it was.

"So, you went to lunch with Gabriel?" McCarty asked her, sitting down across from her desk. "He find out anything new regarding the Box?"

Sara organized a stack of papers on her desk. "Just some stuff about the legend behind the artifact. Nothing that we could connect to Reynolds. I think we may be searching for a motive that doesn't pull through," Sara told him, omitting the truth that she already knew the reason behind Torpe's death. Still, since Reynolds could have had a hand in delivering the Box to Torpe, she wasn't ready to rule him out as a 'suspect.' The only problem would be finding enough evidence to link Torpe's killer to the crime itself.

"He wasn't able to figure out Torpe's source? Where he got the artifact from?"

"Not yet," Sara cursed, realizing she hadn't asked Gabriel to look up possible sources yet, focusing more on the myth behind the object—something she could actually fight with the Witchblade. If she could ask Gabriel to find the source, she may be able to connect Reynolds to the crime.

_But no_, Sara thought disappointed. She _couldn't_ ask Gabriel to locate the source for her because she wasn't _talking_ to Gabriel anymore.

As angry as she had been when she'd made the declaration, Sara had to admit it was getting increasingly harder for her to maintain that she didn't need the kid to solve the case. He was feeding her information on Raleigh's Box, and now he was being directly affected by it. His well being practically depended on her solving the case now, and here she had rejected him.

_Or he rejected me_, Sara thought bitterly. She still couldn't believe he'd said those things. It was extremely unlike Gabriel to be _jealous_ of Sara's powers. He had never showed any envy toward what she did. On the contrary he always seemed rather fascinated by her use of the Witchblade and how it all fit in with this twisted destiny she never chose for herself. He practically lived for that stuff.

"Gabriel and I actually hit a rut, sort of…" Sara admitted aloud. "He's been kind of… bogged down lately, by other stuff, and I think my asking him to help with the case is too much for him."

"These other things that are bogging him down… they wouldn't happen to be all these crime-stopping activities he's been pulling you into, lately, would they?" Jake leaned back in his chair and regarded Sara almost suspiciously.

Sara rebuffed his second attempt in as many days to incriminate Gabriel and responded brusquely, "No. That's _not_ it. But I think I have another theory. I have to see someone, though."

"Again?" Jake sat up in his chair. "Do you need me to come?"

"I would love it if you could, but I'm gonna have to decline again. He's an informant of mine, and he doesn't really like it when I bring other people around." Sara knew it was a poor excuse, but McCarty seemed to buy it, so she left him to his paperwork, grabbed her coat, and headed back out to her motorcycle.

o-o-o-o

15 minutes later she was parked in front of Kenneth Irons' mansion.

It was the last place she wanted to be, but she had reached her wit's end regarding this case. The Witchblade wasn't giving her anything, and she knew that Irons knew something, considering Nottingham's cryptic message the previous morning.

She was shown inside to Irons' office, and she found him behind his desk, Nottingham, as always, at his side, head down, ever the obedient bodyguard. He was different around Irons, she noted. More subdued, less eccentric, and she was surprised to admit she hated it a whole lot more than when he stalked her outside of Irons' presence.

"Detective Pezzini, how nice to see you. It's been so long since we've been acquainted." Irons said pleasantly, with a grin on his face, as he turned to greet her.

"I think I could have gone another lifetime without coming here again." Sara said sarcastically.

"And yet, here you are." Irons gestured to include the room. "On your own free will nonetheless. I take it this isn't a social call."

"Well, I'm not looking for tea and a chat about the weather, if that's what you're asking."

"Then please, sit. Ian, get Sara a chair."

Nottingham moved to comply but Sara called out, "No, I won't be here long. I'm just here for what I need then I'm gone."

"Well, it's not very hospitable of me, but if you insist," Irons nodded to her. "Continue."

"I think you have information I need for a case."

"That's putting it quite bluntly. I probably have a lot of information you need." Irons grinned surreptitiously and clasped his hands together.

"I need to know everything you know about Raleigh's Box. Your minion here already clued me in that you know more than you're saying, which is why you've been having him follow me these past two days. Now one of my friends has been affected, probably with the same thing, and I want to know how to stop it."

"Ah, young Mr. Bowman." Irons nodded. "I've been told you were spending a lot of time with him lately… practicing your spontaneous acts of vigilantism."

"Not by choice," Sara said.

"I suppose you want me to tell you all about the Box, then? What it does? How it operates?"

"Actually we already know its purpose. And I know how it works too. I want to know how to stop it."

"I'm afraid I don't have that information." Irons told her dismissively.

"Bull shit, you know something about this I don't, and you're gonna tell me," Sara crossed her arms, giving Irons a good view of the Witchblade.

"Mr. Ironshas no more knowledge of the Box than you do on that subject, and that, Lady Sara, is the truth." Nottingham looked up slightly to meet her eyes and Sara found herself surprisingly believing him.

"Then how about where it came from? If you can't help me stop this, maybe you can help me find the person who actually has that knowledge."

Irons considered her for a moment. "I do not have his name," he answered her finally. "But I know the owner of Raleigh's Box previous to the unfortunate Torpe is here in New York City. Before that it belonged to an… associate of mine, for some time. He kept it as a part of his collection. He… met an ill-fated demise earlier this year, however—"

"Nothing that you would know anything about, right Irons?" Sara interjected.

"Of course not, my dear!" Irons dismissed her intent. "If you must know, he committed suicide."

Sara's blood ran cold, but she didn't let her fear show. This vicious pattern that was emerging was beginning to get to her. She vowed to call Gabriel tomorrow, after they'd both calmed down, and make sure he was okay. She would never be able to forgive herself if something happened because of her and the Witchblade.

"All I can tell you is that the artifact came into the possession of someone in-state, probably a colleague or friend of my associate's. They were seeking the artifact, from what I hear, but toward what purpose I'm not sure. I'm not even certain they're still alive, to be frank." Sara considered this information. "If you want my honest opinion—"

"Which you _know_ I'm dying to hear," Sara put in.

Irons smiled slyly. "If you want the truth about what happened to your 'murder' victim… perhaps you should go straight to the source."

Grasping his meaning, Sara nodded dimly, and quickly regained her composure. "I think I'll try that." She looked about the millionaire's office airily before turning heel. "You know, you can actually be quite helpful when you're not the one behind the murders."

"Thank you, I hope we meet again soon, as well—it's been a _lovely_ get together!" Irons chimed after her. Sara retreated with a flippant wave of her wrist. When she'd gone, Irons turned his head slightly to acknowledge Nottingham. "Ian, I want you to continue trailing Sara."

"Yes, Mr. Irons." Nottingham nodded.

"I have a feeling this will continue to escalate before it reaches its peak."

o-o-o-o

Gabriel had left the parking garage feeling the need to release his anger. He started to walk around the city block, blowing off steam. _How could Sara suggest that _he_ was jealous of _her _abilities?_ He'd never once given the impression that he was jealous of her. He just couldn't understand her hesitation to accept his visionary power for what it was. It could help innocent people—where could the harm be in that? _Sara just couldn't accept that she wasn't the one behind the rescues for once_, Gabriel thought bitterly.

He was pretty sure he didn't want to _keep_ the premonitions. He'd only had them two days and already he was exhausted. Unless he was able to get some sleep soon, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the pace they had set for him.

_Why, then, couldn't Sara accept this temporary blessing for what it was?_

Gabriel walked briskly over to the nearest coffeehouse, feeling the need for a pick-me-up. He was hardly in the door when he heard a cheerful voice calling out his name.

"Gabe! Gabe, honey!" Gabriel paled, but plastered a grin on his face and turned to see the last person he was hoping to meet that day.

"Hannah!" He called out in a falsely cheerful voice, and held out his hands to give her a hug when she practically attacked him. Two other girls sitting at a nearby table sipping coffee '_awwed_' at the scene and Gabriel assumed they were friends of Hannah's. Hannah was dressed in her work clothes, her shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun, and Gabriel assumed she must be on her break.

"Hey, sweetie. What are you doing over here? This is a weird place to meet up—I didn't know you liked this coffeehouse." Hannah stepped back to get a look at him. "Oh, Gabe, you don't look so good. Are you sick or something?"

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, not sure which question to answer first. "Uh, I don't come here too often. I was on my way over to Sly's to help him with the comic. He lives nearby here—" It wasn't exactly a lie; 'nearby' was more like 5 city blocks, but Gabriel didn't feel like coming up with a better explanation. Besides, it's not like Hannah would ever know.

"You're going over to Sly's still? You look like you need some sleep. Why don't you go home and rest and I'll bring you over some soup after my shift ends tonight?"

"No, that's alright. I don't get sick," Gabriel covered. "Anyway, I got a _lot_ of work to do, but I'll get some sleep tonight, I promise." Gabriel grinned. Now he was pretty sure that _was_ a lie, but a guy could hope…

"So are you, uh, are you in between shifts, then?"

"Yeah, I just thought I'd grab some coffee with my girlfriends. Oh, by the way, this is Shandra and that's Denise." Hannah gestured to the two young ladies at the table, who waved politely.

Gabriel waved back then turned to Hannah. "Well, I guess I better get going."

"OK…" Hannah stood in her spot, looking around idly. Gabriel could swear she actually shifted weight from one foot to the other.

"Uh, I'll… call you tomorrow?" He offered, at his wit's end. Hannah immediately grinned and leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Cool, I'll talk to you later then. Don't stay too late at Sly's, OK?"

"Alright, have a good evening. I'll talk to you later… Hannah," he fumbled awkwardly, and turned to get his coffee. He asked the man at the counter to give him whatever drink had the most caffeine in it and the man regarded him skeptically, but wordlessly complied. Gabriel surveyed the items for sale on the countertop briefly when he was hit with another wave of nausea without warning. His head swam and his vision lost focus—

_Three men in dark masks pushed open the doors to a bank and started yelling. There were about twenty or so patrons and workers standing about, shocked at the sudden intrusion. They were ordered to the ground and complied, but one woman didn't move, too afraid to react._

_A security guard, emerging from a back room, took this opportunity to release his weapon, but another bank robber noticed and shot him. The woman screamed as she too was propelled backwards by a shotgun blast. She fell to the ground dead, and there were more screams…_

_The three men were able to get into the vault and shot the bank manager who had helped them as well. Police arrived… there was a shootout… mass casualties…_

And Gabriel snapped back to reality, still in the coffeehouse at the counter. He had been able to get a better hold on the intensity of the visions, but they still caused him considerable headaches. He was leaning on the counter, hunched over and breathing laboriously.

Acutely aware of the scene he was making, Gabriel straightened himself up to see every single one of the coffeehouse patrons staring at him blandly. Hannah rushed over to him and put her arms on his shoulders. "Gabe! Gabriel, are you OK? What just happened?" She asked, sincerely concerned.

"Uh, nothing. Don't worry about it, Hannah. I just get these migraines sometimes."

"You didn't tell me about any migraines." Hannah stood back as the patrons who'd been listening in went back to their own activities.

"Well, I don't get them often anymore. I usually take something for it, but I didn't get much sleep last night, so that's kind of messing with it…" he covered lamely, accepting his coffee from the ever-more-wary looking clerk. He thanked him and paid for the cup and headed for the door despite Hannah's persistent ministrations.

"Well maybe you _should_ go home then, or to the hospital. That didn't look like a migraine, at least not any I've seen. You looked like you were going to collapse."

"Believe me, I'll be fine. Just, don't worry about me, OK?" Gabriel shrugged her off. "I gotta go. I'll take my medication at Sly's alright?"

"I guess…" Hannah looked despondent, but relinquished her hold on him. "Just, take it easy then, OK?"

"Sure thing." Gabriel exited the coffee shop calling out over his shoulder. "I'll see you later!"

He turned the corner, looking around fervently for the nearest payphone and found one about halfway down the block. He rushed over to it and made sure no one was looking before he picked up the phone and dialed '9-1-1.' On the second ring an operator answered and Gabriel quickly told her, "Yeah, I'd like to report a bank robbery that's going to take place today… on Holden Street and 4th Avenue today, sometime in the next hour... Yes, thank you." Gabriel hung up and sighed, hoping that his warning would be enough.

The police wouldn't ignore an anonymous tip like that though. They'll put men on it in time. He could prevent the whole, bloody scene from happening.

Gabriel smiled to himself as he took a sip of his coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. He didn't need Sara after all, it turned out. _This was going to be a lot easier than I thought…_

o-o-o-o

Sara decided not to take Irons' advice right away, and held out until the end of her shift. Sensing that Gabriel wouldn't be of much assistance anymore, McCarty had taken up trying to locate Robert Torpe's source, where he'd got the Box from in the first place.

Which was all well with Sara, she figured. As long as McCarty was occupied with something else, she could focus on the Witchblade's connection to the case.

5 o'clock loomed and Sara found herself staring at the clock. Her plan was to head over to the funeral home where Torpe was being held before burial. There was a viewing tomorrow before the ceremony, but Sara hoped to get there tonight before the place closed. If she could get to the body, she could use the Witchblade to talk to Torpe himself. It wouldn't be the first time a body helped her with its own case, she thought morbidly, then sighed. _How had her life come to this? When did it all stop being simple?_

And speaking of complexities, Danny and his temporary partner for the day, Rowlands Sara thought his name was, walked back into the precinct, talking quietly to each other. Danny waved 'goodbye' to Rowlands and headed for the men's restroom, not even glancing in Sara's direction.

Mustering her gall, she stood up and followed him, right on into the men's bathroom. Danny and another detective were the only ones in the room. Danny was washing his hands at the sink and the other detective squinted at her smugly. "You about finished, Hubbarth?" Sara asked him, crossing her arms defiantly.

Hubbarth just glared, muttering something under his breath, washed his hands and left without another word. Danny, still refusing to look at Sara, just shook his head. "I think you may be in the wrong room, Sar'."

"I think I'm in the right place."

"I don't want to talk about anything today, Pez'." Danny finished washing his hands and grabbed a towel to dry them. "I just want to go home to my wife, eat dinner and go to bed. We can talk about this some other time."

"No, we really can't." Sara countered. "I want to get things straight again. I know I've been ignoring you a lot lately, avoiding telling you things… but I want you to know there's a reason behind it all."

"I'm sure there is, Sara. I don't doubt that."

"I need you on my side again, Danny," Sara pleaded.

"We've always been on the same side, Sara. You're the one who doesn't seem to notice this." He sighed and faced her. "You can trust me, Sara. You've _always_ been able to trust me. I don't understand what changed."

"_I_ changed, Danny. _I'm_ the one with the issues. It's not you at all. I don't mistrust you…"

"Then why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Sara didn't answer, still too afraid to go down that route. "I just don't understand how you can trust a complete stranger like Gabriel with whatever secrets you're keeping but you still can't tell me… Partners tell each other everything, Pez. They share with each other, help each other. Until you feel like you can tell me what's bothering you again, I don't think I can _be_ your partner." Danny moved past her and Sara didn't try to stop him. "I'm sorry, Sara."

Sara listened to the door close behind her and she leaned heavily against the wall, muttering to herself, "Damn it…"

o-o-o-o

Ten minutes later, Sara found herself exiting the precinct, the sun setting in the distance. As dusk settled over the city, Sara hurried to her motorcycle, hoping to get to the funeral home before it closed. She hadn't even got her helmet on when her cell rang. She pulled it out, surprised to find Gabriel's number flashing on the screen.

"Gabriel, what is it?" Sara asked immediately upon answering.

"Sara… I need your help." Sara frowned at his troubled tone.

"What is it? Where are you, Gabriel? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm at the east end of Central Park, but I've got a problem. Pez, I just had two visions at the same time."

"Two visions?"

"Yeah, of two entirely different crimes, in two entirely different parts of town," Gabriel told her. "I don't know what to do. I can't stop them both. I don't even know which one's going to happen first."

"What do you need me to do?" Sara asked.

"I'm going to try to stop one. A murder is supposed to happen here in the Park somewhere. I don't know if I can reach it in time, it's pretty far away, but I'm gonna try. The other one is at the Hunter Apartment complex in Queens. Some guy shoots his wife and her lover… Apartment 12B. Pez', you need to stop it. I can't get there in time, there's no way."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do. Gabriel—_be careful_." Sara hung up before he could reply and quickly put on her helmet. _So much for her initial plan_…

She drove as fast as she could, cursing the traffic. Too many people were heading home from work; she would never get past the rush hour traffic to get there in time… Hoping time was on her side, Sara kept going, and twenty minutes later, found herself in front of the shady apartment complex. She banged on the door to the main complex, yelling for someone to let her in. After several minutes, a woman walked up and Sara followed her in, rushing past her up the stairs, not even bothering to try the elevator.

She hit the twelfth floor just in time to hear a gunshot ring out. Two kids playing in the hall looked down at 12B with fear in their expressions. "Go inside," Sara shouted at them, drawing her gun. "Go inside, lock the door and call the police, OK?" The two children nodded, wide-eyed, and disappeared inside the nearest open door.

Sara gritted her teeth, fearing she was too late, and rushed down to 12B, kicking the door open with one hit. She entered the apartment just in time to see a man holding a gun to a scantily-clad woman's temple… and pulling the trigger.

"NO!" Sara shouted, firing her weapon. But she was too late. A second shot rang out and the woman collapsed in the spot, right next to the prone form of a younger man. The husband reeled from Sara's bullet, which found its mark in his shoulder. He dropped the weapon and Sara immediately kicked it away. Her wrist transformed into the gauntlet as the husband reached for the gun and Sara landed a stunning blow to the side of his head. He fell to the ground, unconscious and Sara cuffed him to the bed. She immediately went over to the lover and checked his pulse.

There was none.

Cursing loudly, Sara leaned back on her haunches, putting her head in her hands. She was too late…

She looked up to see the two small kids standing in the doorway once more, staring fearfully at the three bodies. Sara hurriedly grabbed a sheet to cover up the bodies so they wouldn't have to see.

"We called the police," the older boy said mutedly. "They're coming now… Is he dead?"

Sara stood, holstering her gun, her mind searching for excuses to tell the police for her sudden appearance. "Yeah, they are," she told them resignedly. "Go on back to your apartment, OK? Go on."

The kids disappeared, and Sara suddenly remembered Gabriel. She only hoped he reached the other crime in time to stop it, so that at least one of his visions would go to use today. The police arrived not too much later and Sara retrieved her handcuffs as quickly as she could, explaining to them she was visiting a friend in the area and saw the fight through the window. It was lame, but in her hurry, she could only hope they would accept it.

Hurrying back to her bike, Sara sped all the way to the west end of Central Park, where she'd assumed the murder was supposed to take place. On the outskirts of the park, near a rundown part of town, the streets were blocked off by police cars. Sara parked and used her badge to get past them, dashing to where a line of police tape had cordoned off an area surrounding an alley. _This had to be the place_… Sara thought, and her thoughts were confirmed when she found Gabriel himself sitting on a bench behind the crowd of onlookers. She rushed over to him, but to get there she had to pass the body of the victims. A man in his forties was being hustled into the back of a cop car, looking stony-faced. On the ground were the bodies of a woman… and two young children, surrounded in chalk, crime scene investigators swarming over the place.

"Gabriel, GABRIEL!" Sara called out for his attention when she reached the bench he sat at. She knelt in front of him. "What happened?" She asked, thinking she already knew.

Gabriel looked ahead despondently, past Sara. "A father killed his ex-wife and kids. He was angry at her for putting a restraining order on him and taking the kids away… so he decided not to let anyone have them," he replied dully, without a hint of inflection in his voice.

"I was too late," he added.

Sara was silent, not sure how to break it to him that she'd been too late as well. Never one to keep her luck, Gabriel looked up at her. "Did you stop the other murder? Did you get there in time?"

Sara opened her mouth to speak; words failed her. Sighing dejectedly, she put her hand over Gabriel's comfortingly as his eyes widened with the realization. "You didn't save them, did you?"

Sara shook her head. "No, Gabriel, I didn't… I'm sorry."

Gabriel turned away, trying to conceal the pain in his eyes. Tears brimmed at the edges and he wiped them away fervently with the heels of his palms. "Oh God…" he exclaimed desperately. "I can't believe this… What's the point of getting premonitions if you can't possibly stop them from happening?"

"It's not your fault, Gabriel," she told him. "There was no way you could prevent them both."

"But I couldn't stop _either_ of them from happening! This is insane, Pez. You were completely right. What was I thinking, trying to do this? It's hopeless, there's no way I can do this by myself." It never occurred to Sara to tell Gabriel 'I told you so.' However angry she'd been earlier, she had absolutely no desire to rub it in his face now, seeing how upset he was at his inability to save the lives of these people. "But I can't just stop either… You don't know what it's like… seeing all that pain every time I close my eyes and believing I can do something to stop it, but not being physically able to… And they're coming in faster now, the visions. I'm getting more and more of them. I can't keep up. I can't keep—" Gabriel shook his head and stood. Sara tried to follow him as he began to walk away.

"We'll fix this, Gabe. We'll stop the visions. I promise I'll help you, if you bear with me just a little bit longer—"

"I can't do this anymore, Pez'." Gabriel said. "I can't save these people, and if what happened earlier at the Post was any evidence, even if I _try_ to save them I end up doing more harm than good… You were right, Sara. I give up."


	7. 6 Complication

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Almost finished!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter Six – Complication**

Sara was up bright and early the next morning to head over to the funeral home first thing upon opening. She hoped she would have less of a crowd to contend with if she went right away.

All the previous evening she'd tried to talk to Gabriel, to console him, but he had locked himself up in his apartment and wasn't answering the door or his phone. She was getting increasingly worried, but hoped the Witchblade would warn her if Gabriel harmed himself in anyway. She wondered if this was what happened to Torpe and all the other victims before they finally killed themselves…

With this call for urgency adding speed to her actions, Sara made it to the Colman Fuller Funeral Home just as the wake was starting. As she expected there were few people there to visit Torpe. A pair of women she assumed must be coworkers of Torpe's were seated in the back of the room talking quietly. At the front of the room, the casket was placed, alone.

Sara quickly signed her name to the guest book and walked calmly up to the casket, trying not to be noticed. Robert Torpe lay, looking peaceful but despite the common conception that corpses looked like they were sleeping, Torpe didn't look very lifelike. Sara had seen too many dead bodies in her lifetime to hold a positive opinion of what the 'other side' looked like.

She looked down on the body and sighed. "Look, I don't know how this works. If you wanna just come right out and say something, or if I have to ask the right questions…" she sighed. "God this is creepy. I shouldn't even have come here."

"You're doing the right thing." Sara was shocked out of her stance by a man's voice. She looked down at Torpe. His body had suddenly come to life, reanimated and looking rather well-rested.

"That was fast," Sara commented.

"I didn't have many things to do in life," Robert Torpe said. "What makes you think I'd be in a hurry to get anywhere in death?"

"Is Heaven that boring?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't gotten there, yet," Torpe admitted. "I've been stuck in a sort of limbo since I died. I don't even know if I'll be allowed up there yet."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Sara wrinkled her brow.

"They kind of frown on that whole suicide thing in Heaven, you know?" Torpe shrugged—actually shrugged.

"You didn't kill yourself, though," Sara said. "Did you?"

"I'm afraid it was my decision to take my own life, just as it was for the Box's victims before me. There was no other option." Torpe's face became pained. "There was just so much…hurt. I couldn't take it anymore."

"Listen, Robert. I don't have a lot of time here. I need to know who your supplier was—who gave you the Box. A friend of mine is going through what you went through, and I want to stop it before the same thing happens to him. Can you tell me who it was?"

"I'm afraid I don't know his real name," Torpe said apologetically. "It was an internet exchange. I met him on a website – under the screen name 'Raleigh's Gift.'" Torpe chuckled. "Of all the ironies, huh? Guess I should have just paid attention the first time around…"

"The dealer was supposed to be here in New York. Do you know anyone who might have wanted to get revenge on you for anything, maybe wanted something from you?" Sara knew she was fishing, but it didn't seem to matter to her right now.

"Not really… well, I sort of had this… competition with a coworker of mine, Paul Reynolds. He and I always competed for everything—and I mean _everything_. Positions, money, the boss's attention, even women we met. It was a silly thing, really. I'm rather upset I wasted so much of my life engaged in something like that."

"I'm sorry," Sara said, but on the inside she was rejoicing that Torpe himself was giving her further proof of her inclinations… but then he added to his statement.

"But I don't think Paul is capable of something like that," Torpe said truthfully. "He was rather dull, not too cultured. He doesn't seem like the type to plot out a murder in such an… intricate fashion."

"I'm sorry to tell you this too late, but you don't always know what people are capable of."

"They say that the dead still tell tales long after their demise, but I must admit I've never seen someone actually converse with the deceased before." Sara turned, startled and came face to face with Father Merrick. "I came to pay my respects to my unfortunate parishioner. He may not have acted in God's wishes by taking his life, but every man deserves a caring soul at their wake. I see I'm not the only one who had that idea." Merrick smiled at her sweetly.

Sara grinned back. "Hello, Father Merrick. I thought I might stop by before my shift. It's a shame there are so few people here." She glanced back down at Torpe, who had reverted back to his original appearance.

"Yes, well, as you already know, Robert didn't have many friends or family about him. He must have felt terrifically alone to end his own life as he did… If only he'd known that the Eye of God is always upon him… he might not have gone down the road he did."

"Perhaps not," Sara agreed.

"You don't seem to be refuting me, and I haven't heard anything on the news, so I assume that Robert's death has indeed been ruled a suicide, then?"

"Yeah," Sara lied, knowing full well that someone else had a hand in Torpe's demise… but not in a way she could reveal to the priest. "It's a shame, isn't it?"

"It is most unfortunate. But I'm glad Robert wasn't murdered. It always pains me to hear of murders. To think that a human being can commit such an awful crime against another living thing, be it man or animal. I cannot watch the news at night anymore, because I'm afraid to turn on the television and see nothing but pain. I am thankful for people like you, Detective Pezzini, because you have the ability to stop such things from happening. I think everyone should take full advantage of their potential to help other human beings… too many people just walk away."

Sara burned with guilt, thinking of her earlier statement to Gabriel, urging him to stop his quest. Of course he didn't want to stop. He was Gabriel Bowman, best friend extraordinaire, and all-around nice guy. There was no way he would pass up a chance to help out another human being; Sara should have known that.

"I know what you mean," Sara agreed. "Well, I'd better get back to work now, Father. The sooner I get back, sooner I can stop more bad guys, huh?"

Merrick smiled. "Yes, of course. Thank you for stopping by, Detective. It was very charitable of you."

"You too, Father. I'll see you." Sara waved and left the church, jogging back to her bike. She had a destination in mind, but she was going to stop and check on Gabriel first.

o-o-o-o

_A teenager sat in a living room, smoking a joint with his friends. He opened a drawer and pulled out what looked like a handgun. Laughing at his discovery, he showed the weapon off to his friends, pretending to aim it at his head. There was a sharp crack—_

And Gabriel snapped back to alertness, laying draped across his old, worn couch in his apartment. It must have been his eighteenth attempt at falling asleep since the previous night, and still he found himself unable to close his eyes. Ever since he'd left the Park the previous afternoon after failing to save the woman and her children from their father's ire, he had ignored all subsequent visions… but it was getting harder and harder to do so.

He hadn't slept in over 60 hours, but every time he tried to rest he found himself barraged with another series of violent images. They had started to occur regularly on fifteen to twenty minute intervals, without reprieve. Gabriel hardly noticed the details anymore, he was just so tired...

He had tried taking sleeping pills twice now, but they only served to make him more exhausted. The fear of getting another vision kept him from closing his eyes…

_This is how an insomniac must feel_… Gabriel thought dejectedly. He'd always considered himself a night owl, but it had always seemed then to be by choice. _And insomniacs don't get premonitions of death and mutilation_, he reminded himself bitterly.

Hannah and Sly had both tried to phone him that morning, but Gabriel ignored their calls, hoping they would take the hint. He didn't care what Hannah thought anymore—that he was trying to ignore her or whatever. None of it mattered to him right now.

_A woman attempted to apply makeup at the wheel during rush hour traffic. She wasn't looking and blew past a red light. A truck veered into her vehicle, the left side of the car taking the full brunt of the impact. Her screams were drowned out entirely by the honking of horns, the screeching of tires, and the crunching of metal against metal as the two vehicles collided…_

The scrape of the metals rent the air and echoed in his apartment as the vision ended. Gabriel squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, cringing. It had been two hours since he'd last taken some Advil. He was starting to think he would have to step up soon to something more powerful.

Gabriel sat up after a few minutes nonetheless and headed over to his bathroom cupboard, pulling down a bottle. He took three more pills, downed them with a glass of water, and stared at himself in the mirror.

He looked _horrible_, he realized. He had started to carry the appearance of a homeless addict. The bags under his eyes were so defined it looked like he hadn't slept in two _weeks_, not two nights.

"Way to go, handsome," he muttered, turning away from the mirror and leaving the bathroom. As he walked down his hallway back to the living room, he felt that familiar feeling wash over him and braced himself against a wall instinctively.

_On an unrecognizable New York street, a face-off between a group of police officers and a pair of suspects resulted in an intense shootout when both of the criminals pulled out their guns. In minutes, bullets were flying, and screams could be heard from frightened onlookers. One cop was shot in the upper chest, and he went down hard in the street, alone and out of reach of his fellow officers.. His blood quickly spread, amassing into a large puddle, his life force seeping out of him…_

And with a gasp Gabriel was pulled back to reality. He was kneeling in the hallway of his apartment, his knees smarting and bruised from the dive he took. Gulping in air, he tried to stand on shaky legs, knowing immediately that he needed to get to a phone.

The cop in his vision had been Danny Woo.

He reached the phone in three strides and dialed the number for the precinct, but the cop who answered told Gabriel that Danny was in a briefing, but it should be over any minute now.

Gabriel thanked him, hung up, and grabbed his coat. If Danny was still in the briefing, there was an excellent chance that he could catch him before he left the precinct. He just had to get there before Danny and the other cops left. It was at least a twenty minute walk to the precinct the way Gabriel usually took. If he hurried, he could get there in under ten.

He was barely outside the door to his apartment when he nearly collided with a tall, dark figure.

"Good morning, Mr. Bowman." Ian Nottingham greeted him. "Where are you off to this morning?"

"None of your business, Nottingham," Gabriel sneered. The guy gave him the creeps, the way he followed Sara around like a stalker. Gabriel got bad vibes off him anyway, in general. It didn't help to know that he was practically the Igor to Kenneth Irons' Dr. Frankenstein. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I am here to ensure your safety," Nottingham replied simply.

"Wow, I didn't know you _cared_," Gabriel drawled.

"I don't. As it happens, your fate is unfortunately tied to that of Lady Sara… and if I must protect you to protect her, then I shall do it."

Gabriel continued walking and Nottingham followed him deftly, keeping up his pace. "Do you know anything about this stupid Box?" Gabriel asked, suspicious.

"No more than you," Nottingham told him. "I find it rather amusing, though, that you are still under the impression that your actions will have any effect on the evil this world generates. You've seen far too little and are far too young, Master Bowman, to truly understand the inevitability of human nature to do evil."

"Don't bother with your pessimist witticisms, Nottingham," Gabriel shot back. "I already know I can't save the world… Right now I'm just trying to save one life."

"That's touching, Bowman."

"I'm glad I brought a tear to your eye, but I still don't need your protection. I can do this by myself."

"I am merely doing my job," Ian insisted. "Lady Sara would wish me to make sure you don't do anything… drastic."

Gabriel stopped momentarily to meet eyes with Nottingham. "Look, if you want to help Sara, go help Sara! You're not gonna do any good stalking _me_. I'm going to a police station. What kind of harm do you think I can run into there?" Gabriel continued walking. "And anyway, where the hell were you when Sara got shot two days ago? If you're so bent on protecting her, you shouldn't even _be_ helping me. I'm the one who's getting her into all this trouble."

"You speak volumes, Master Bowman. And perhaps you also begin to see why you and I cannot get along. You deter Lady Sara from her destiny far too often with your idealistic methods."

"Then why are you still here, Nottingham?"

Another pause. "Point taken," Nottingham said finally. "Good luck with your quest." Before Gabriel could reply, the older man had vanished.

Gabriel continued on his way, turning down alleys and cutting corners as often as possible. He shot a glance at his watch. It was just past 9. 10 minutes had passed since his phone call.

He ran through every scenario in his mind of why Danny would still be there, trying to reassure himself that he wasn't too late, as he reached 11th Avenue, where the precinct was located. He turned on to the busy street, looking past all the early morning rush hour traffic, businessmen and other New Yorkers walking down the busy avenue, to the front of the 11th Precinct. He broke into a dash, but was interrupted abruptly by another vision.

_An elderly black woman in a white blouse and blue pants was walking down a busy street. She was coughing violently, rubbing her sweaty forehead, obviously hot with fever. The sickly woman began to cross at a corner where there was no stoplight. She had barely made it off the curb when she stopped to cough into her fist. The fit lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough of a delay for the cab driver coming in her direction, who was distracted by something he'd dropped on the floor, to miss her entirely. The car collided with the woman and she collapsed to the pavement in a heap… _

Gabriel was surprised to find himself still standing when he snapped out of the premonition. This vision was different from the others, somehow, he knew. There was a certain immediacy to it that he couldn't place…

…And then he saw an elderly black woman with a white blouse and blue pants walking toward Gabriel on the opposite side of the street. He blinked, shocked at the realization that the vision he'd just had was only seconds away from happening. Reacting quickly, Gabriel yelled out to the woman, tried to get her attention, but she didn't hear him over the din of all the people on the street. Patrons stared at Gabriel curiously, as if he was crazy, but he ignored them all.

He watched the woman reach the corner. Gabriel was only a block away. He broke into a run.

Completely oblivious, the sick woman crossed the street. She was halfway across now…

Gabriel ran into the street, waving his arms. Still, she didn't notice. She stopped, suddenly overcome by the coughing fit he'd witnessed in his vision. The yellow cab was only feet away and, like in the vision, the driver wasn't watching where he was going…

And then several things happened at once.

Without warning, something collided with the elderly woman… but it wasn't the cab. Gabriel dashed across three lanes and pushed the woman with all his might. She went tumbling onto the sidewalk, scraping her arms and legs on the pavement as she collapsed heavily onto the cement.

Across the street, coming out of the 11th Precinct, Danny Woo and his partner, Mark Rowlands, exited through the front door, getting ready to head out to a crime scene. He looked up just in time to hear the commotion.

The male cab driver finally picked up his cell phone which he'd dropped on the floor and looked up just in time to see an older woman being pushed out of the way of his vehicle, only to be replaced by another figure.

And in the middle of the street, Gabriel Bowman, too stunned to react, hesitated just a split second too long. The cab collided with him in a fury of crunching metal and screeching of tires. Gabriel felt himself being propelled over the hood of the cab and landing brutally on his right side, and as he lay in the street feeling something warm spreading over his arms and face, his world stopped spinning and faded to a welcome, smothering black.


	8. 7 Reliance

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

Sorry I haven't updated in a bit! I have spent the last two weeks packing up and heading back to school. Now that the first week is over I'm starting to settle back in a bit!

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Almost finished!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter Seven - Reliance**

Contrary to what he led on concerning Sara Pezzini's ambiguous affairs, Danny Woo still looked for her when he got into work that morning. It didn't matter that it was earlier than Sara was used to coming in, or that he was still angry with her for continuously hiding the truth from him, he still wanted desperately to reconcile… he just wasn't about to make the first move.

When the usual morning briefing had ended at 9 and Sara still hadn't arrived, according to McCarty, Danny started to get worried.

"She should be in soon," McCarty shrugged. "She called me this morning, said she was going to stop somewhere before work, but she thought she'd be here on time. Maybe she's just checking on Gabriel. Supposedly he hasn't been… up to par, lately."

"No kidding," Danny quipped. "There's a LOT that's not 'up to par' with Gabriel Bowman."

"Do you think he has any relation to the crimes that have been going on lately? All the ones Sara's been stopping?" McCarty put out tentatively, testing the waters.

Danny scrunched his forehead in consternation. "No…" he began sketchily. "Those I don't know about. But he's got to be in some kind of trouble that he keeps dragging Sara into… I'm just baffled as to what it could be."

"I think he knows something about Torpe," McCarty said. "Something he's not telling us."

"You may be right," Danny told him. "But if something's there, Sara'll figure it out."

"You sure about that?" McCarty raised his eyes to meet Danny's gaze, voicing all of Danny's doubts with those four words.

Danny shrugged, laughing desperately. "I have no idea anymore." He left McCarty to his own work then as Mark Rowlands, a good-natured detective in his forties, clamped a hand on Danny's shoulder.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go." Danny followed Rowlands to the front of the precinct where Danny's car was. "So, how was dinner with Cathy the other night?" Danny asked. "Did it go over well?"

"As well as can be expected," Rowlands answered. "…In that I've been bumped up from the couch to an air mattress in our bedroom."

Danny chuckled. "I know how that is." He may not have liked the conditions under which his temporary partnership with Rowlands had come about, but he found himself enjoying his work with the older detective. The two married men had a lot in common, he'd found.

Rowlands pushed the front door open and Danny followed him out into the morning sunlight, still talking about his wife. Danny looked up instinctively to where his car was parked, but his own car wasn't what caught his attention. Instead what he saw when he looked up was none other than Gabriel himself… pushing an old woman out from in front of a speeding taxi, only to be struck by the vehicle himself.

His voice catching in his throat, Danny could only watch as the younger man's body was flung over the hood of the car violently, and landed with a sickening crack on the pavement that Danny and Rowlands could hear even from where they were standing. It wasn't until it was all over that Danny snapped back to reality, yanking himself out of his trancelike state.

"_Christ_, Gabriel," he muttered, breaking into a run.

A confused Rowlands followed, but not before he yanked open the door to the precinct and shouted, "Call an ambulance! There was an accident out front!"

Danny was the first to reach the scene of the accident. He stopped briefly to touch the shoulder of the woman who Gabriel pushed out of the way, but she only waved him off to tend to her rescuer. Danny continued on, walking around the hood of the parked car slowly, grimacing at the sight of the younger man's state. Ignoring the traffic that was trying to inch past without disturbing the scene, Danny knelt next to Gabriel's prone form and warily reached out a hand to feel for a pulse. He was relieved to discover one—thready but definitely present.

"Oh my God… Oh my God, he just ran out in front of me—I didn't see him! He just ran out there!" The cab driver had gotten out of his vehicle and was surveying the accident frantically.

Danny looked up to see the driver exit and told him, "It's okay, sir. No one's blaming you."

Rowlands helped the elderly woman into a sitting position on the curb. She was scraped and bruised, and still coughing violently but seemed otherwise unharmed. She looked past Rowlands to Danny and Gabriel, and called out, "Is he okay?" When Danny didn't answer, she asked again.

Danny didn't know how to respond. Gabriel was alive, but for how much longer, he couldn't be sure. "Rowlands, where is that damn ambulance!" Danny shouted to his partner.

Rowlands shook his head. "I don't know, Danny. I told them inside to call." As if on cue, the wailing of a siren flared up, not too far from their position, and simultaneously a group of detectives joined them at the scene, cordoning off the street so that cars couldn't get by.

Danny looked back down to Gabriel. The kid was in rough shape. He'd definitely broken a few bones on his right side, and there was a vicious looking gash running down the length of his temple that worried Danny more than anything. He wondered if it was alright to roll Gabriel onto his back, to relieve him of the awkward position he now lay in on his side, but decided it would be better to wait until the ambulance arrived. _It can't be very far off now_, he thought.

Danny knew it seemed selfish to think something like it at the time, but the cop part of him really wished Gabriel was conscious so he could ask all the questions that were plaguing him—like what he was doing in front of the precinct, where was Sara at, what correlation this incident had to all the others from the past two days, most of all: what on earth had made him jump in front of a moving vehicle like that?

_Well, besides the obvious_, Danny thought. "Dammit," he muttered aloud to himself. _Why did the kid have to be such a damn hero? Just look where it got him…_

Danny pulled off his jacket and bunched it up into a ball, carefully raising Gabriel's head and slipping it beneath to give him some padding, if he could offer him nothing else. He used his sleeve to try to stop the bleeding on his forehead, but his efforts were wasted when, less than thirty seconds later, the ambulance pulled up and a team of paramedics took over for the detective.

Danny was shoved to the back of the crowd and could only watch, helpless once more, as the medics went to work. Rowlands joined him, breathing heavily. "Man, some thing to happen right here in front of the precinct, huh? Do you know him?"

Danny sighed. "Yeah, his name's Gabriel Bowman. He's a friend of Sara's."

Rowlands cocked his head to see past the mess of paramedics. "Oh yeah, he's that artifacts kid that helps her out a lot, isn't he? I've seen him around…" Rowlands shook his head sympathetically as the paramedics lowered the stretcher and carefully transferred Gabriel onto it from the pavement. "Damn shame, I hope he makes it."

"Me too," Danny cringed realizing for the first time that he would have to call Sara and tell her the news.

Jake joined them then and looked at the stretcher then to Danny. "What's going on, Danny?"

It was the woman who answered, resisting the ministrations of an eager paramedic who was trying to give her an oxygen mask, insisting that she didn't need one. "I'm fine," she told the woman, then walked up to Jake, Danny and Rowlands, hand on her chest. "He pushed me out of the way just before that cab was about to hit me. I didn't see it coming. I've had the flu for a week now, but I thought I could manage a walk to the store." She shook her head, wiping away a tear with her other hand. "That cab would have killed me if he hadn't jumped in."

"Is he gonna make it?" Jake asked worriedly, his troubled visage betraying the conflict he felt at witnessing Gabriel's bravery when only minutes earlier he'd been ready to name him lead suspect in his latest case.

"I don't know." Danny answered truthfully then took a step forward. "But I'm going with him to the hospital."

Rowlands called out to him, "Wait, wait—Danny! What about the case?"

Danny turned around, shrugged. "I—I don't know what to tell you. But I can't let him go alone."

"What am I supposed to tell the Lieutenant?" Rowlands shouted after him.

"Tell him… Tell him I'm sorry but I have to do this. I'll be back here as soon as I figure out what's going on."

"Danny—He's not gonna… Woo!" Rowlands' protests went in vain.

"I'll call as soon as I can, OK!" Danny got the attention of the nearest paramedic as they loaded Gabriel's stretcher into the back of the ambulance. "Hey, is it alright if I ride along?"

The paramedic glanced briefly at Gabriel. "Is this guy a criminal or something?"

"No," Danny answered. "He's a friend of a friend."

The paramedic thought for a moment then said, "Yeah, you can come. Hurry up and get in though." Danny climbed in the back and watched as the doors swung shut. The siren wailed back into life as the ambulance sped away toward the hospital.

o-o-o-o

Sara Pezzini stepped back from the front door to the apartment complex where Talismaniac was located, face scrunched in concern. She'd been buzzing Gabriel for almost ten minutes, without any response. She was beginning to get worried. Glancing up into the window to his apartment, Sara couldn't see enough to determine if anything suspicious had occurred. Cursing to herself she stepped back up to the door and buzzed once more for good measure.

She'd already called and left a rather urgent message on his machine asking him to pick up four minutes ago, but that too went unheeded. She hoped the Witchblade would warn her if Gabriel had done anything harmful to himself. The bracelet had been viciously dry as far as visions were concerned, ever since the first one two days earlier. _You can start helping me out again any time now,_ Sara thought, inadvertently stealing a glance at the Witchblade on her wrist.

She was halfway in between heading back to her bike to go confront Paul Reynolds and breaking down the door to Gabriel's apartment to find out if he was okay when her concentration was interrupted by the abrupt ringing of her cell phone.

Sara pulled out her cell and flipped it open. It was an unknown number.

"Sara." Danny addressed simply before Sara could utter anything to express her surprise. Being the generally laid-back person he was, Sara didn't often witness Danny Woo's serious voice, but when he did use it, she always recognized it immediately, and just like those other select times, the same icy dread spread through her veins as she prompted him to continue.

"Danny… what's wrong?" She couldn't think. She had blocked out her mind to any possibilities that what she feared the most at this moment had indeed come true.

"There was an accident in front of the precinct today… You've got to meet me at the hospital right away."

"Who—"

"It's Gabriel," Danny interrupted before she could finish. "He's—he's hurt pretty bad."

Sara's face flushed with relief at the word 'hurt,' which at least answered her first question of whether her friend still lived. Sara closed her eyes for a moment then opened them. "I'll be there in ten minutes." Without saying goodbye she ended the call and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. She hurried back to her bike and was off in record time, all the while trying to stop the pervasive thought that kept running through her head.

_I let him out of my sight… I never should have left him alone…_

o-o-o-o

Much to Sara's dismay the hospital ER fit the cliché of being crowded, noisy and chaotic, but Sara still managed to locate Danny right away.

"Where is he?" Sara asked immediately upon their meeting, feeling bad that she had no other greeting for him, but she could sense that Danny understood. Sara had always had a tendency to be fiercely protective of those closest to her—those she perceived to be her family, and in the short time she'd known him, Gabriel had managed to fit the bill.

"He's in surgery right now. They took him up from trauma about ten minutes ago. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner… I didn't want to tell you until I knew something about his condition. I only know what they told me before he went up," Danny said in a comforting voice. "He suffered some considerable damage to his right side… a few broken bones, some internal damage they're trying to fix… The doctor said his chances were good though."

"Good." Sara bit her lip, dropping her head to her hands and massaging her temple. "How the hell did this happen?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. All I know is what I saw—I was coming out of the precinct getting ready to head to a crime scene with Rowlands when I see this old woman about to be hit by a taxi cab. Gabriel rushed in at the last moment and pushed her out of the way… ended up taking the brunt of the accident himself. I have no idea what he was doing there. Do you think he was coming to see you?"

"Could be…" Sara mused. "But I've been stopping in to his apartment to check on him all morning. Why wouldn't he just talk to me then? Or call?" Danny refrained from asking why she was checking in on Gabriel and simply shrugged in response. Sara took a seat in the waiting room, per Danny's request, and the latter removed himself to make a phone call.

Danny returned a few minutes later and took a seat to Sara's left wearing a grim expression. "I just called the precinct. The Chief's pretty upset I left so abruptly. They didn't have enough detectives to cover the crime scene so the cops had to clean up..."

Sara looked mournful and apologized to her partner. "You don't have to stay here," she told him. "I mean, thank you so much for being there with Gabriel, but you can go back to the precinct if they need you there—"

"No, it's okay. They've got things under control… Besides, I'd rather be here right now."

Sara smiled. "Thanks, Danny."

"Chief also said something else that I thought was really weird…"

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"He said that Gabriel called this morning before I got into work… and asked for me." Danny squinted, perplexed.

"For _you_?" Sara matched his confusion.

"Yeah, any idea why he would want to talk to me before asking for you?" Danny asked his partner.

"Not a damn clue," Sara answered truthfully. "That doesn't make any sense…"

"Well, I guess we can add that to our list of questions when he wakes up," Danny said.

The two slipped into a period of silence then, letting the bustle of the ER flood past them while they mused to themselves. Half an hour later, they were confronted by a surgeon, still dressed in scrubs, fresh from the operating room.

"Detective Woo?" He addressed Danny then turned to Sara. "And I take it you're Detective Pezzini?" Sara nodded. "I'm Dr. Wolford. I was the head surgeon working on Mr. Bowman upstairs… Are either of you family?"

Sara shook her head. "No. I don't know of any family. He never talks about them. What is his condition?"

"Gabriel suffered several fractures to his right arm, and a solid break in his leg that should heal properly given adequate attention. He also has a major concussion, and two broken ribs. There were no other internal injuries however, and he should be expected to recover within a few months, with proper physical therapy. We'll have to keep him here for a few weeks."

"Can we go see him?" Sara asked urgently.

Dr. Wolford paused, and Sara sensed there was more to the problem. "There was something else about his condition that I think you should know… He seemed non-responsive to stimuli, so I ordered a CT scan, and it revealed some erratic brain-wave patterns… Was Gabriel taking anything? Drugs, perhaps?"

"No," Sara blinked. "No, not that I'm aware of. He's never done anything like that before." Nonetheless, despite her declaration, Sara wondered if maybe Gabriel _had_ taken anything in an attempt to harm himself… She knew he'd insisted that the Box would have no effect on him, but she'd seen the pain in his eyes yesterday evening, when he'd been unable to save those five victims… He was completely defeated. Perhaps by this time it _was_ in Gabriel's nature to simply… give up.

"Well, I guess that's something else we'll have to keep an eye on then over the next 24 hours." Dr. Wolford directed them to the elevator. "He's in 229, on the second floor. The nurses will help you out if you need anything."

"Thank you." Sara threw a glance at Danny before heading for the elevator. Though she knew it would be much more difficult to question Gabriel about the Box with Danny around, an emotional part of her was extremely thankful that he was there to support her, especially after everything she'd put him through lately.

Gabriel's room was small and bland looking. There was nothing particularly cheery about it. When Sara saw all the machinery around the bed, her friend's lithe form framed with white sheets her heart leapt. "Oh Gabriel," she sighed heavily, pulling a chair alongside the bed. "What did you do to yourself, kiddo?"

Gabriel's right arm was wrapped in a cast, and his leg in a temporary brace. The cut on the side of his face had been covered with a white bandage, but it was already beginning to soak through. He looked paler than ever, Sara noted, and she ran her hand through his dark, matted hair, tousled and untidy.

Danny stood behind her silently, holding himself back from asking Sara where she'd been that morning. He felt he probably wouldn't get a truthful response even if it had been an appropriate time to ask the question.

The grave silence didn't prevail for much longer however, as Gabriel's body jerked involuntarily, and his eyes shot open as he started to come to. Shocking his two visitors, Gabriel greedily sucked in several mouthfuls of air and attempted to sit up as if in a rush, shouting "NO! Stop it!" but Sara and Danny jumped in, holding him down before he could hurt himself.

"Whoa, whoa!" Sara shouted, placing a hand on his head to calm him. "Settle down, Bowman. Where the hell do you think _you're_ going?"

Gabriel continued to breathe in deeply, pulling his fractured wrist in closer to his chest, shielding it with his other hand. Bewildered, he looked at the two detectives then moved his attention around to take in his surroundings.

"Why am I in a hospital?" he asked.

"You don't remember?" Danny asked him.

Gabriel paused for a moment and tried to grasp for clarity. Slowly it came back to him. "I ran in front of a taxi, didn't I?" He said after a brief pause.

"You saved a woman's life," Danny put in.

Gabriel looked at him solemnly then slowly turned his head to face away from them. "Right…" he muttered.

Sara looked at him with sympathy. "Gabriel… what happened today… You didn't—you weren't trying to _hurt_ yourself, were you?"

Gabriel turned quickly to meet Sara's gaze. "No, why would I—You thought I was trying to kill myself, didn't you?" he asked, with a hint of offense.

Before Sara could respond, she turned to regard her partner. "Danny, could you—I kinda need to talk to Gabriel, please?"

Danny nodded. "Sure thing, Sar'. I'll be right outside, OK?"

"Thank you." Sara waited until he left, then turned back to Gabriel.

"Sara, I swear to you, I was not trying to kill myself. I had a vision of that woman about to get hit and I tried to stop it. I think I got another vision just after I did it, because I just blacked out and stood there. I don't remember what happened after th—" He was cut short by some unseen barrier as he squeezed his eyes shut and Sara knew he was biting back another vision.

"I believe you," Sara told him when he opened his eyes again, heaving breaths. "I just didn't know how else I'd get Danny to leave us alone for a few minutes. What the hell happened, Gabriel? What's with the freak out when you woke up?"

A pained expression flashed briefly on Gabriel's face as he recalled whatever it was that caused him to react that way. After a heavy silence he told her, "I was having a vision of a guy being murdered… He was lying in an alley all alone and someone was stabbing him repeatedly with a knife. It was like I could feel every thrust of the knife in my own stomach… Sara, I've been having nonstop premonitions since last night. That's why I haven't been getting any sleep. Every time I close my eyes… all I can see are people dying—and this time I couldn't do a damn thing about it."

He wasn't looking at her the whole time he told her this, focusing instead on the vacant screen of the TV above his bed. "It was a constant nightmare that you know you're having, but you can't wake up from no matter how hard you try."

Sara reached out to his uninjured hand, which was still placed protectively on his right arm and grasped it in her own, squeezing his fingers comfortingly. His confession at least explained the unusual brain wave patterns his doctor detected—the visions were like a narcotic on Gabriel's system. "I'm doing everything I can to stop it, Gabriel. Trust me."

"I know," Gabriel answered, but he didn't seem very comforted.

"Why did you call the precinct asking for Danny this morning?" Sara asked, remembering what her partner had told her.

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak and realization hit him as he remembered everything that had happened earlier that morning. "Oh my God, Sara. You've got to tell Danny not to go anywhere today!"

Sara wrinkled her brow. "What?"

"That was the first vision—the reason I was even there this morning. I had a vision of Danny being shot. He and a bunch of other police officers were at a crime scene; the suspects had guns and they started shooting and he went down… I don't know whether he lived or not. You can't let him go anywhere today, Pez."

"I'll do my best—Woo's not exactly on my side as of late. I've been kind of withholding information from him, if you know what I mean…"

"Do whatever you have to do to keep him here, but you can't let him go to the streets today."

Sara looked her injured friend in the eye. "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to protect him."

"I know you will," the young man forced a small grin.

"Gabriel, you didn't happen to find out anything about where Torpe got the Box from, did you?" Sara asked, changing the subject.

"No, I wasn't even looking," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright. I actually talked to Torpe today—" Gabriel raised his eyebrows at this. Sara fingered the bracelet around her wrist, "with the help of the one and only… and he said that he got it from an internet supplier named 'Raleigh's Gift.' Have you ever heard of it?"

"No, I would have remembered it." Gabriel said. "It isn't any major dealer I've ever heard of. Either they're new, or they don't deal much."

"_Or_ they only created the name to get the Box into Torpe's possession. I went to see Irons yesterday. He wouldn't tell me much, but he did mention that the dealer lives here in NYC, and he hinted that it might have been transferred for the specific purpose of encouraging Torpe to kill himself."

Gabriel clenched his jaw as another premonition hit him, but he didn't say anything about it, letting his visage numb over, knowing he could do nothing about it now. "Probably the best murder weapon on this earth… A Box that gets people to kill themselves through depression… it can't possibly be traced to the would-be murderer."

"Not unless I track them down first." Sara said heatedly. She stood up and walked over to the door, beckoning to Danny to come back in. Danny entered the doorway and asked what was up. "I'm going to go talk to Paul Reynolds again," Sara told him. "Do you think you can stay here with Gabriel?"

"I can't, Sara. I'm on another case now, with Rowlands. We're supposed to be doing a drug bust this afternoon. I've already been here too long, I should really get back to the precinct—"

"NO!" Sara and Gabriel shouted simultaneously, causing Danny to jump.

"What?" Danny asked, startled.

"No, you—you can't go on that bust today, Danny, and neither can the other officers."

Danny eyed her suspiciously. "Why?"

Sara fetched for an explanation but found her well had long since run dry. "You just can't, not until you get more intel or backup… It's too dangerous."

"Sara, we've done extensive research on this bust. We can't afford to bring any more guys in. We have plenty as it is—"

"No, _you don't_," Sara said firmly. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Danny… Look, can you just stay here with Gabriel? I'm really worried about him, and I think he really needs someone to be here right now—"

"Sara, the doctors and nurses can—"

"_Please_, Danny… I don't want to have to worry about losing you too," Sara pleaded. "Please just do this for me and I promise you—I _promise_—you will get a full explanation when all this is over." _That was it_, Sara thought, floored by her own words. _You just condemned yourself to give up your secret… You'd better hope that both of you are ready to confront the truth when it's all over_. Still, there was nothing else she could do about it now. She'd already said it and there was no taking it back. If she did, she'd have to risk losing Danny's trust forever and Sara couldn't handle that.

Finally Danny nodded consent. "Fine, but I'm holding you to that. You _have_ to tell me what's going on before the day is over."

"You have my word." Sara turned heel and headed for the door. "Thank you, Danny. Hang in there, Gabriel."

"Listen, just don't get killed before you can tell me, OK? 'Cause you owe me now!" Danny shouted after her, but Sara was already too far away to reply. Danny sighed heavily and turned around to face Gabriel, who looked to be suffering from a migraine. "Do you need me to get a nurse or something?" Danny asked him.

Gabriel gazed at him somberly. "No," he answered. "I'm fine."


	9. 8 Acceleration

**Title:** Visionary

**By:** Kara

Sorry I haven't updated in a bit! I have spent the last two weeks packing up and heading back to school. Now that the first week is over I'm starting to settle back in a bit!

**Begun:** November 22, 2004

**Finished:** Almost finished!

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** After a businessman dies suddenly and unexpectedly, supposedly from committing suicide, not long after contacting Gabriel about taking an artifact, the case is handed to Sara. While Sara probes the victim's death, Jake and Danny suspect Gabriel's involvement in the crime. When Gabriel begins to exhibit some of the same symptoms the victim experienced before his death, Sara investigates, hoping to save her young friend's life before he meets the same end as his predecessor, but Nottingham's unsuspected offered aid causes her to wonder whether Irons is involved in the situation.

**Chapter Eight – Acceleration**

Sara resumed her pace from before she received the call from Danny, back on track to her original intended destination. She made it to Paul Reynolds' apartment in record time, weaving in and out of heavy rush hour traffic on her bike.

If Sara had been angry before, she was triply so now, upon learning of Gabriel's accident. It didn't matter if whoever had wanted Torpe dead had no idea of the ripple effect Raleigh's Box would have on those who later beheld it. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that the person responsible for starting the whole, painful mess was stopped immediately, before the situation escalated into anything worse than it already was…

With fire in her veins, Sara pressed down harder on the gas pedal, speeding up to avoid a yellow light.

Paul Reynolds had hardly opened the door when Sara shoved it open the rest of the way, knocking it into Paul's forehead roughly and knocking the man back several feet.

"What the hell—" Paul exclaimed, clutching his bruised temple as he stumbled and lost his balance. Sara pushed him back and he tripped over his rug and fell to the ground.

"I think you've been lying to me about a few things Mr. Reynolds," Sara said firmly, looking down on him.

"What! No—I haven't lied to you about anything!" Reynolds shouted desperately. "What is this about? Are you even allowed to be here!"

"I'm not under anyone's authority, if that's what you're asking," Sara told him. "I'm here for the sake of my friend—a _kid_ who you've put in danger because you wanted your coworker dead!" Reynolds stood up from the carpet only to meet Sara's fist in the upswing.

"I—I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Reynolds glared at her, wiping at his bloody lip with his fingers. "I already told you I had nothing to do with that asshole's death." Reynolds' voice carried an indignant tone, but by the expression in his eyes as he slowly backed away from her, Sara could tell he was deeply frightened of her.

"You know what I'm talking about—Raleigh's Box. A little artifact about yea-big," Sara gestured. "Big, red, fiery eye on the front." It didn't matter to Sara nor did it register to her in the heat of the moment that Reynolds still looked bewildered. She was too far enraged to stop herself now. "You sent it to Torpe to convince him to kill himself. You _knew_ he was depressed and you exploited that!" Sara grabbed the collar of his shirt and shoved Reynolds against his own wall roughly.

"You can't do this to me, Detective. I'm going to contact your supervisor and tell him what you've done. You're going to get fired for this! You have no right to be here!" Reynolds stammered.

"You're not gonna have that chance, Mr. Reynolds." Sara felt the gauntlet transform and she extended the Witchblade at her side, in clear view of Reynolds' gaze.

He looked down at her side fearfully, then at the other arm, which was still pinning him against the wall. "Who are you?" He asked her with a shaky voice. "Who _are_ you?"

"I'm the person whose going to avenge Robert Torpe, and save my friend's life." Sara said menacingly.

"OK—OK! I'll admit it. Dear God, I admit it!" Reynolds faltered, breaking down before Sara's eyes. Shocked at the ease of his confession, Sara released him and he fell, shriveling at her feet. _That was easier than I expected_… Sara thought.

"I'm so sorry," Reynolds said brokenly. "I did it—I told our boss that Torpe was clinically depressed. I told him that Robert was taking drugs to counteract the depression, and that I didn't think he could handle the stress of the position… I didn't know Torpe knew I told him, I swear… I didn't think he'd ever find out… I just really wanted the promotion."

Sara backed up, her jaw dropping. The Witchblade retracted and she rubbed an idle hand over the stone of the bracelet. A vision flashed before her eyes of Paul Reynolds taking his boss aside and whispering to him, all the while gesturing at an oblivious Robert Torpe, quietly working at his desk. The boss nodded and patted Reynolds on the back supportively. Torpe was entirely unaware.

When she came back to reality, Sara found Reynolds still quivering on the floor still stammering apologies. Sara couldn't hear any of them. "You really don't know anything about it, do you?" She asked, not waiting for an answer. "You had nothing to do with his death."

Reynolds stopped weeping and looked up hopefully. "I didn't?"

Sara was already turning to leave the room, floored by this new revelation. The Witchblade had not lied to her. Paul Reynolds was not responsible for Robert Torpe's death. _She should have just listened to Torpe the first time around…_

Sara left Reynolds' apartment without further conversation. Reynolds just knelt on his carpet, bleeding and bewildered. Sara, meanwhile, got back on her bike, her face emotionless, blank. _Where to now?_ her mind implored, but she could not answer. She was back at square one, no destination in mind…

o-o-o-o

Following Sara's hasty exit, Danny had left the room under the premise of getting coffee. He came back with one for himself, as well as a cup of water for Gabriel, who pushed himself up in his bed to receive it.

Gabriel slighted a glance at Danny's coffee. "This is it? Where's my coffee?" He joked.

Danny sat his cup down and picked up a magazine next to it, flipping through it without reading anything. "I don't think the nurses would look kindly on it if I gave you caffeine."

"They don't have to know…"

"Besides, man, you really look like you could use the sleep," Danny informed.

Gabriel snorted. "I don't need any sleep."

Danny rolled his eyes. "All right, Maverick. Suit yourself." He skimmed through an article on metal detectors and airports, then realized how little interest he'd invested in the material and set the magazine aside with a sigh. "All right, I told myself I could wait until Sara got back from whatever solo mission she's on now, but I can't do it. Why were you coming to see me earlier today? Not even Sara seemed to know when I asked her."

"I wanted to ask you if you'd seen Sara," Gabriel lied. "I hadn't seen her since last night and I was worried. I thought you might have an idea."

"Yeah right. If you really wanted her, why didn't you just call her cell?"

"I did try to call it. No one was answering. That's why I was worried." Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut again, grimacing, then opened them a moment later.

"I'm not going to get anything out of you, am I?" Danny queried. Gabriel shrugged, taking a long sip of his water. Danny leaned back in his chair resignedly. "What I wouldn't give for an interrogation room and a stronger cup of coffee right now."

"Oh yeah, that's the ticket. Interrogate the invalid. Good job, Detective." Gabriel said sardonically, tipping an imaginary hat. "You wanna handcuff me to the bed too? 'Cause I might try to escape."

Danny shook his head. "How old are you, anyway?" he asked.

"Twenty."

"Twenty years old—what's a kid like you doing hanging around a dusty old precinct all day anyway?"

"I like dusty, old things. Remember what I do for a living?"

"I'm being serious here—why are spending all this time there instead of going out and drinking or partying or doing stuff with other people your age?" Danny asked, genuinely curious.

Gabriel considered this a moment. "Because Sara's my friend, and I like to help her out with cases, I guess. I don't know, really. I guess Sara makes me feel like I should be helping people more. She inspires a sort of confidence and bravery in people," he answered thoughtfully.

"I can't argue with that. Sara's an amazing person. That right there is probably the reason I'm still considering being partners with her, even past all these secrets she's been carrying lately." Danny looked past Gabriel pensively.

"You probably think I'm the cause of a lot of the changes in Sara," Gabriel said. "That I'm part of the reason she hasn't really… been around lately."

"Well I'm not gonna lie to you… I have considered the possibility," Danny said. "It's just that she and I weren't just partners. We were best friends. I could rely on her for anything, but she's just been so distant lately… Still, I can't help but trust her with my life."

"She wouldn't steer you wrong, Danny. She's always considering the lives of everyone around her. Sara may not talk to me about her feelings, but I think it's easy to see that she tries to protect those she's close to… She probably thinks that that's what she's doing for you—protecting you. She can't see that it's hurting you, because she thinks she's doing the right thing."

"I'm not gonna like what she's going to tell me later today, am I?" Danny asked.

Gabriel shrugged. "If you really care about Sara like she cares about you… I think everything'll be alright."

"I hope you're right…" Danny met with Gabriel's pained eyes again. "If it means anything to you, Gabriel, I think I trust you too… I have no idea why I trust you but I do." Danny chuckled half-heartedly. "I guess it's all a part of the Sara-Effect—wanting to believe in those around her. I trust her judgment in people—"

"And you respect her decisions, whatever may be motivating them, right?" Gabriel finished, thinking back to his own accusation to Sara yesterday afternoon and feeling guilty.

"Right," Danny agreed. "I just wish she wouldn't think that she has to handle all her problems by herself. It pains me to see her struggle alone like this, but that's the way Sara always does things."

Gabriel nodded, knowing full well the truth in the detective's words. Sara may be fiercely protective of her friends, but she was hardly open with them. Gabriel took another sip of his water and set it down on the table with his uninjured arm.

He started to shift his position uncomfortably when a dreadfully familiar sensation came over him—

_Two men struggled near a bay, fighting viciously. It was dark out, well into the night. One of the men fell in the water in the fight and the other jumped in after him, still throwing punches._

_The man who'd fallen in was caught unawares and thrust under the surface by the larger man's rough grip. He struggled for release, to free himself from the viselike grasp but it was to no avail. He pushed as hard as he could toward the surface, hoping to get just one mouthful of air but the strong hands held him down. He felt the air enter his lungs, still struggling, now suffocating him…_

When Gabriel came to, still in his safe, dry hospital room, he was just happy that the vision was over. It took him a little longer to realize that he was still coughing violently, as if choking on the water that the victim in his premonition was killed by. Danny was up from his chair in a flash, patting Gabriel on the back to get him through the coughing fit.

Finally, Gabriel stopped choking and leaned back against the white pillows, closing his eyes for relief. Danny took a step back from the bed, concern etched into his features. "Maybe I really should go get a doctor or something. This doesn't seem normal—"

"No." Gabriel said adamantly, meeting Danny's gaze. "It's _not_ going to help me. There's nothing the nurses can do that the morphine isn't doing already, trust me." Gabriel sensed Danny was about to delve back into inquisitive detective-mode again and he prepared to change the subject to whatever came to mind, but he was saved by the ringing of his cell phone.

Gabriel asked Danny to retrieve the phone for him from his collected belongings on the table across the room. Danny pulled out his cell phone and glanced at the screen. "You have a call from… Hannah." Danny wagged the phone back and forth with a grin, holding it up for Gabriel to see.

"Don't answer it." Gabriel said quickly.

"Why not?"

"I just… I don't have the energy to keep up with her right now, honestly. I can't explain to her what happened."

"You don't have to explain to her. I can tell her—"

"I don't want to talk to her," Gabriel said quickly, sitting up so abruptly that he jarred his leg and grit his teeth in pain. "Sorry," he apologized to Danny. "I just can't deal with that right now."

"All right." Danny shrugged and threw the phone back in the bin. "This is gonna come back later to haunt you though, you know? Girls _always_ need to know everything that's going on."

Gabriel fished for something else to talk about. "Listen, so this Torpe guy in the murder case, he lived all by himself didn't he?"

Danny cautiously took his seat again. "Yeah," he consented. "He did."

"And you couldn't find any of his family or anything? People who might know what happened to him or… care about going to his funeral?"

Danny shrugged. "No. Torpe had a few coworkers, but he wasn't married, no girlfriend to speak of. No family we could find—pretty unfortunate thing to be so alone, if you ask me," Danny said sympathetically.

"Yeah…" Gabriel juggled the words around. Pursuing the Torpe murder _probably_ wasn't the safest course of action, considering what Gabriel was trying to avoid, but he couldn't help it—he'd been extremely curious to learn the details of Torpe's life the more he learned the details of the man's death…

Unfortunately the more he learned, the more parallels he was able to draw with his own life… and not in a good way. If Gabriel lived through the week, he mused bitterly, then it was very likely he would end up like Robert Torpe—another commitment-phobe living all by himself with his _objects_…

Where was it he'd gone wrong, exactly? Gabriel had always figured he'd get married one day but here he was almost 21 years old and not a single serious relationship to his name.

"You're married, right Woo?"

Danny regarded him strangely, piqued by the sudden change in the conversation's direction. "Yeah, to the love of my life."

"Well…" Gabriel didn't know how to continue this thread, exactly. "How did you _know_ she was the one? How did you know you'd found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?"

Danny considered this briefly. "I'm not sure exactly. I always assumed that when you found the person, you just knew. It takes time, of course. You have to make sure they're the one, stick in there just long enough, but when you find the one, I think you'll know."

Gabriel sighed. "People are always saying cliché shit like that."

Danny chuckled. "Unfortunately for originality's sake, it remains true nonetheless."

"I'm in for a long road ahead, aren't I?" Gabriel said.

"Looks that way, I'm afraid."

Gabriel paused then spoke up. "Hey, Danny?"

"Yeah?" Danny met his imploring gaze.

"I know you did it for Sara, but… well, thanks for sticking with me today. I really appreciate it." Gabriel quickly averted his gaze, studying the blue and white brace secured to his right leg.

"No problem, kid." Danny smiled sincerely. "Hey I'll be right back. I gotta make a call." He stood up and was about to call into the precinct to tell the Lieutenant that he wouldn't be back for the day when Gabriel suddenly started coughing again. Danny turned to look at him and found the younger man breathing heavily, like he was having an asthma attack of some sort. Danny wrinkled his brow in worry, even more so when Gabriel's eyes rolled back in his head and his body started convulsing violently. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor became jagged and uneven.

Without wasting another second, Danny yanked the door open and called down the hall, "I need a doctor in here! Somebody, please!"

A few personnel came running, pushing past Danny into the room. Dr. Wolford, Gabriel's doctor, followed on their heels moments later, taking a pen light out of his front pocket. While several orderlies held Gabriel's shuddering body down securely, Wolford shone the light in each of the young man's eyes. "He's having a seizure," he spoke to the nearest doctor. "Get me 10 mL of—" Before Dr. Wolford could go any further, Gabriel's body stopped its convulsing and the erratic rhythm of the monitor took precedence when it transformed into a steady, unbroken line…

Danny pushed aside so he was closer to the bed. "What's happening to him!" he demanded, catching only a glimpse of Gabriel's ashen face before he was roughly shoved aside.

"We lost heart rhythm. Start compressions." Wolford ordered. "Get him out of here!" He gestured toward Danny.

"Wait—hold on a minute!" A nurse grabbed Danny's arm and started to escort him to the door despite his protests.

She led him outside, explaining, "We'll let you know as soon as we know your friend's condition. But I'm afraid you have to stay out here for now." She threw a glance behind her desperately before saying, "I'm sorry," and shutting the door in Danny's face.

Heaving a stressful sigh, Danny massaged his aching temple and leaned against the wall heavily. _What was he going to tell Sara?..._

o-o-o-o

Having no other destination in mind, Sara decided to return to the hospital. She felt like she was giving up too easily, but she needed to clear her mind of its predispositions and she sure as hell couldn't do that at the precinct with Jake breathing down her neck about finding Torpe's killer.

"I never should have taken this case," Sara muttered as she pulled into the hospital parking lot. She found a parking spot in the garage and pulled off her helmet. As she entered the hospital's main entrance, she pulled out her cell phone and saw that she had one missed call—same number as before. Danny must have called her when she was in Reynolds' apartment.

Instead of calling back, Sara ran up to the second floor to meet them, but when she got to the area, she found his room vacant. The first thing she felt was a deep pang of fear that she'd missed a very important phone call when she'd been pursuing her false lead… but no, the Witchblade hadn't told her anything. _It would warn her if something terrible had happened to Gabriel, wouldn't it?_

Convincing herself of this, Sara steeled herself and walked over to the front counter, where a receptionist was filing papers.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for my friend. He was in Room 229. I was just wondering if they might've moved him or—"

"Sara!" Before the receptionist could reply, Danny's voice interrupted. Sara turned to see him hurrying towards her.

"Danny, where is he?" Sara asked, not gratified by the sinking look on Danny's face. "Danny, don't you tell me he's—" Sara couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"He's not dead." Danny supplied. "Although the doctors did lose him once when I was in the room… There was a complication of some sort. Gabriel was moved up to the ICU just now… Sara," Danny almost didn't continue, intimidated by the intense look on his partner's face, but he didn't want her to hear it from anyone else. "Gabriel slipped into a coma about half an hour ago."

o-o-o-o

Sara stood on the other side of the glass, watching Gabriel from the outside of his room on the fourth floor ICU. The doctors wouldn't let her in anymore. They were afraid that whatever was wrong with Gabriel might be complicated by infection from outsiders, and so quarantined him in his solitary room.

Sara wanted to tell them that they were all wrong—that what he needed more than anything right now was human contact, but how could she explain it to them?

As a further safeguard, in case he had another seizure like the one he'd experienced an hour before, Gabriel had been placed in restraints, deemed a possible danger to himself… Both his arms, even the already injured limb, were now laid straight at his sides, encased in leather cuffs to prevent him from moving around too much.

It was painful for Sara to watch her friend like this… even more painful to know she could do nothing to stop it. A call to McCarty had informed her only that there still were no leads in their case. Sara was starting to believe that the whole thing—Torpe getting the Box—had all just been a fluke, that he wasn't meant to have it, but then _why_ would the Witchblade warn her?

Danny had been reserved since Sara's arrival, knowing that he should allow his partner to grieve in her own way, and Sara was thankful for that, but she was equally thankful when Danny clasped a hand on her shoulder and said, "He'll pull through Sar'. I may not know him as well as you do, but Gabriel's a fighter. He's not gonna give in this easily."

"Thanks, Danny."

"You know, that woman Gabriel saved—her name's Maggie Johnson. She stopped by while you were gone and dropped off some flowers. She said she wished she could stay longer, but the doctor told her she should go home and rest."

"Oh?" Sara replied.

"Yeah, she told me that she's grateful for people like Gabriel and for law enforcers like us—grateful for people that actually try and _stop_ bad things from happening. She said not enough people try to help their fellow man anymore."

"She's not wrong, you know." Sara said remorsefully. "It's a damn shame, but too many people just walk away—" Sara cut short as she uttered the last few words, a distant memory triggered in her mind. Scrutiny showing in her face, Sara pulled away from Danny, her arms still crossed.

"What is it?" Danny asked her.

_"I think everyone should take full advantage of their potential to help other human beings… too many people just walk away"…_

"Son of a bitch…"

"Sara?"

"Danny, I've got to go." Sara ignored Danny's protests as she walked back to the chair her coat was laying on. "Does the nurse downstairs still have Gabriel's things? I need his apartment key."

"Yeah, I—Sara, where are you going now?" Danny was impatient.

"Stay with him, please Danny. Don't let him give in."

"Let him give in to what?" Once again Danny found himself calling after Sara.

"With luck I'll be back in an hour," and once again Danny was left clueless as he watched the elevator doors slide shut with his partner behind them.


End file.
